Lady   Cecilia  Stephana  Anne 
Daughter  of  the  Earl  Rushbury 


THE  /DIARY 
OF   MY  HONEYMOON 

Anonymous 


COPYRIGHT,  1910 
BT  THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 


Publisher's   Note 

THE  following  diary  is  presented  to  the  public  as  a 
most  significant  human  document,  which  may  not 
be  without  usefulness  as  well  as  interest,  as  illus- 
trative of  certain  tendencies  of  the  times.  All 
proper  names  have,  of  course,  been  altered,  with  the 
exception  of  those  of  the  great  capitals,  London  and 
Paris,  but  with  these  exceptions  the  diary  is,  to  the 
best  of  our  belief,  exactly  as  it  was  written  by  the 
necessarily  anonymous  writer. 


2135088 


The 
Diary  of  My  Honeymoon 

FOUROAKS,  January  ist. 

WHAT  a  strange  New  Year's  Day!  Coming  after 
such  a  horrid  Christmas,  the  first  I  have  ever  spent 
without  Papa  and  Mama,  it  has  given  me  so  much 
to  think  about  that  my  head  aches. 

When  I  got  up  this  morning  and  looked  out  of 
my  window  over  the  park,  I  saw  that  it  had  snowed 
in  the  night.  The  trees  looked  lovely,  and  there 
was  ice  on  the  pond  near  the  drive. 

Kelly  brought  in  my  hot  water  with  a  very  long 
face.  She  always  gets  sentimental  on  birthdays  and 
New  Year's  days,  and  ever  since  Christmas  she  has 
been  worse  than  ever.  She  insisted  on  kissing  me, 
and  I  could  see  that  she  was  crying.  I  scolded  her 
a  little,  but  it  made  her  worse.  So  I  asked  her  what 
she  was  crying  for. 

"It's  so  hard  to  think  of  changes  coming,"  she 
replied  darkly. 

"What  changes?"  said  I. 
7 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Why,  my  lady,  you're  grown  up  now,  and  you'll 
be  eighteen  next  month,  and  it's  not  likely  Lady 
Rushbury  will  let  you  stay  down  here  with  your 
governess  and  me  now  you're  old  enough  to  be 
presented." 

"Someone  has  told  you  something?"  I  said. 

For  I  could  see  that  these  ideas  would  never  have 
come  into  my  old  nurse's  head  of  their  own  accord. 
Then  she  confessed  that  Miss  Trood  had  had  a  let- 
ter, and  had  told  her  something.  But  she  wouldn't 
say  any  more,  and  I  dressed  as  quickly  as  possible 
to  find  out  what  was  going  to  happen. 

There  was  a  worse  scene  to  be  gone  through  with 
Miss  Trood  than  with  Kelly.  Her  eyes  were  red, 
and  she  was  very  melancholy  indeed;  and  she  told 
me  that  Papa  was  coming  down,  and  that  luncheon 
was  to  be  served  at  half-past  one  in  the  Great  Hall 
for  him  and  two  other  people  only. 

"Who  are  the  people?"  I  asked. 

Miss  Trood  looked  rather  sphinx-lilce,  as  she  said 
she  didn't  know  who  they  were,  but  that  they  were 
probably  "not  nice"  people,  as  she  and  I  were  not 
to  be  at  luncheon. 

I  said  nothing  for  a  few  moments,  for  I  knew 
that  Miss  Trood  had  worried  herself  about  our  hav- 

8 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

ing  spent  Christmas  by  ourselves,  and  that  she,  as 
well  as  Kelly,  had  been  talking  about  "changes," 
without  telling  me  anything  more,  until  I  had  be- 
come nearly  as  low-spirited  as  they,  without  know- 
ing why. 

"Has  Papa  written  to  you?"  I  asked. 

"No;  Lady  Rushbury." 

"Mama!     Well,  let  me  see  her  letter." 

"No,  Cecilia,  I  can't." 

"Why  not  ?  Why  do  you  and  Kelly  make  a  mys- 
tery of  everything?"  I  said. 

"Well,  I  had  better,  I  suppose,  tell  you  this :  that 
the  Earl  is  very  hard  pressed  for  money  just  now, 
and  that  these  people  he  is  bringing  down  are  com- 
ing on  business.  I  suppose  something  to  do  with 
mortgages,  and  raising  money,  and  that  sort  of 
thing." 

"Oh,  is  that  all  ?  Then  why  have  you  and  Kelly 
been  crying?" 

She  wouldn't  tell  me  at  first,  but  presently  I 
coaxed  her  into  saying  she  was  afraid,  as  Papa  and 
Mama  never  came  down  to  Fouroaks  now,  and  as 
I  was  growing  up,  the  place  would  be  given  up  or 
let,  and  that  I  should  have  to  go  to  live  with  Mama 
in  town. 

9 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

This  was  dreadful.  I  should  break  my  heart  if 
I  had  to  live  in  London,  away  from  the  ponies,  and 
the  garden,  and  my  animals  and  birds,  and  the  peo- 
ple I've  known  so  long.  Fancy  leaving  Nannie 
Barnes  and  Mrs.  Fielder  and  the  old  Hawkinses, 
when  they  look  forward  so  to  my  coming  to  see 
them  every  week! 

I  asked  if  she  disliked  London  as  much  as  I  did, 
since  she  cried  so  much  at  the  thought  of  going; 
and  then  she  said  that  she  would  have  to  go  away, 
and  Kelly  too,  and  that  if  I  went  up  to  town  it 
would  be  to  be  married. 

At  this  I  laughed,  and  told  her  I  did  not  mean  to 
marry  for  years  and  years,  if  I  ever  did.  But  she 
cut  me  short,  and  told  me  I  knew  nothing  of  life, 
and  that  girls  in  my  position  were  not  free  to  do 
as  they  pleased  about  such  things. 

I  had  not  the  heart  to  tell  her  how  wrong  she 
was,  and  how  ridiculous  it  was  to  think  that  Eng- 
lish girls  had  those  things  arranged  for  them,  like 
French  girls.  And  then  we  had  breakfast  without 
any  more  talk  about  these  things,  and  I  stuck  Jack's 
card  on  the  mantelpiece  in  the  breakfast-room. 

It  is  a  whole  year  since  I  saw  him.  Not  since 
Christmas  a  year  ago,  when  he  and  my  Uncle  Alger- 

10 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

non  came  with  Papa  and  Mama,  and  Penrhyn  and 
Marjorie,  and  a  lot  more  people,  and  we  had  such 
a  lovely  time.  I  shall  never  forget  that  dance  with 
Jack,  and  that  talk  in  the  winter  garden  afterwards. 
I  suppose  he  hasn't  forgotten  it  either,  though  he 
never  says  anything  about  it  in  his  letters.  Dear 
old  Jack!  I  wish  he  would  send  me  that  photo- 
graph he  promised  me!  I  wonder  whether  he  is 
as  handsome  as  ever!  He  will  be  twenty-one  on 
the  twelfth  of  February,  and  I  must  work  him  some- 
thing first.  Slippers,  I  suppose.  Only  Miss  Trood 
will  have  to  do  the  hard  part,  so  it  will  be  more  her 
present  than  mine,  and  I  don't  want  that! 

Miss  Trood  wanted  me  to  keep  indoors,  because 
of  Papa's  people;  but  I  could  not  get  through  the 
morning  without  one  peep  at  the  ponies.  So  I  stole 
out  at  the  first  opportunity  after  I  had  done  my  prac- 
tising, and  got  down  to  the  stables  about  one,  with 
my  lap  full  of  carrots. 

I  didn't  dare  go  to  my  room  for  a  hat,  for  fear 
she  would  catch  me  and  stop  me;  so  I  stole  Kelly's 
ulster  from  the  housemaid's  cupboard  on  the  stairs, 
where  she  keeps  it  on  a  nail,  and  pulled  the  hood 
over  my  head  and  ran  out  like  that. 

The  snow  was  thawing,  and  I  got  in  a  fearful 
ii 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

mess;  and  of  course  my  shoes  and  stockings  were 
wet  through  before  I  reached  the  stables.  But  Fan 
and  Flurry  and  Folly  were  so  pleased  to  see  me, 
and  I  was  so  pleased  to  see  them,  that  I  forgot  my 
wet  feet,  and  the  time,  and  everything;  and  I  went 
into  the  loose  box  and  got  on  Flurry's  back,  and 
went  round  and  round,  holding  on  by  his  mane  and 
enjoying  myself  thoroughly,  till  suddenly  the  place 
seemed  to  grow  dark,  and  I  saw  a  man  looking  in. 
The  next  moment  I  heard  Papa's  voice,  and  I 
jumped  off  Flurry's  back  and  tried  to  hide  myself. 
The  man  raised  his  hat  and  went  away  without 
saying  anything,  and  I  waited  in  the  darkest  cor- 
ner, feeling  very  uncomfortable  and  disreputable, 
until  their  voices  died  away. 

When  I  got  back  to  the  house,  flattering  myself 
that  I  had  been  very  lucky  to  have  met  nobody,  I 
ran  right  into  the  lion's  den!  For  just  as  I  was 
running  through  the  passage  to  the  back  staircase, 
the  library  door  opened,  and  Papa  and  two  other 
men  came  out. 

I  was  so  frightened  that  I  dropped  one  of  my 
shoes.  Both  of  them  had  got  so  heavy  with  snow  and 
mud  that  I  could  scarcely  keep  them  on  a  minute. 
Of  course  I  didn't  stop  to  pick  it  up,  but  ran  on,  hop- 

12 


ing  nobody  would  guess  that  the  female  Guy 
Fawkes  was  Lord  Rushbury's  daughter. 

But  I  heard  a  man's  voice  say : 

"The  little  lady  has  dropped  her  shoe.  Cinderella, 
by  Jove!" 

And  the  next  minute  I  had  to  stop,  for  the  same 
voice,  close  behind  me,  said: 

"Your  ladyship,  this  is  your  slipper,  I  think." 

I  had  to  turn  round  and  thank  him,  and  take  the 
horrid  thing,  which  was  as  unlike  a  lady's  slipper 
as  possible!  And  then  I  saw  that  it  was  the  same 
man  who  had  looked  in  while  I  was  in  the  loose 
box.  He  was  very  polite,  indeed ;  and  he  smiled  and 
bowed  very  deeply.  I  scarcely  looked  up,  but  took 
the  shoe  and  made  off,  dreadfully  worried  as  to 
what  Papa  would  say. 

Miss  Trood  was  very  angry  with  me  when  I  got 
upstairs,  and  when  Papa  came  up,  an  hour  later, 
after  luncheon,  I  was  afraid  I  was  in  for  what  Pen- 
rhyn  calls  a  "jolly  row." 

But  poor  Papa  was  not  himself,  and  instead  of 
scolding  me  for  what  I  had  done  he  kissed  me 
quietly,  and  told  Miss  Trood  he  should  be  glad  if 
she  and  I  would  dine  with  him  and  his  friends  that 
evening. 


He  was  looking  worried,  and  I  felt  very  sorry 
for  him.  It  seems  so  natural  for  Papa  to  be  happy 
that  he  scarcely  seemed  like  Papa  at  all.  He  soon 
went  away,  and  I  had  the  uncomfortable  feeling 
that  he  looked  ashamed  of  himself,  and  I  wondered 
whether  he  thought  that  I  had  really  disgraced  him 
by  being  caught  like  that.  However,  he  didn't  say 
a  word  about  it,  and,  of  course,  I  didn't. 

I  thought  Miss  Trood  looked  odd,  but  she  said 
nothing  either,  except  to  lament  that  I  had  no  frock 
to  put  on  newer  than  one  I  had  in  the  autumn. 

I  told  her  it  would  do  quite  well,  and  that,  as  I 
was  not  "out,"  I  was  not  expected  to  be  very  smart. 

When  we  went  down  together  to  the  Blue  Saloon, 
we  found  Papa  and  the  two  gentlemen  already 
there.  They  were  introduced  to  me,  and  I  found 
that  the  one  who  had  run  after  me  with  my  shoe 
was  Sir  Lionel  Eberhard. 

He  was  very  polite  to  me,  and  smiled  whenever 
he  caught  my  eye,  and  asked  me  all  about  my  ponies, 
and  whether  I  was  fond  of  horses.  And  he  told 
me  about  some  little  white  ponies  he  had  seen  in 
Austria,  and  made  me  long  to  see  them.  Then  he 
promised  to  try  his  hardest  to  get  me  a  pair.  I 
was  delighted,  but  I  don't  suppose  he  will  remember. 

14 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

He  was  very  nice  to  me,  but  I  don't  think  I  like 
him  very  much,  for  he  has  such  horrid  little  eyes 
and  such  a  curious  thick  way  of  speaking.  His 
teeth  are  beautifully  white  and  his  hair  is  black; 
but  though  Papa's  hair  is  beginning  to  grow  a  little 
grey,  Papa  looks  much  younger  than  Sir  Lionel. 

But  then,  of  course,  Papa  is  Papa,  and  it's  not 
fair  to  expect  everybody  else  to  be  like  him. 

The  other  gentleman,  Mr.  Calstock,  has  a  curious 
face,  and  I  noticed  that  when  he  was  talking  he 
looked  kind  and  pleasant.  But  when  he  was  not 
speaking  his  face  looked  as  hard  as  stone.  That 
is  a  bad  way  to  express  it,  but  I  can't  describe  it 
differently. 

Miss  Trood  looked  rather  frightened  all  the  eve- 
ning, and  when  dinner  was  over  and  she  and  I  came 
back  to  the  Blue  Saloon,  I  asked  her  what  was  the 
matter. 

She  laughed,  and  said,  Nothing;  and  asked  me 
what  I  thought  of  Papa's  friends,  and  whether  I 
liked  them.  I  said,  Yes ;  and  told  her  of  Sir  Lionel's 
promise,  and  she  looked  more  frightened  than  ever. 

So  I  asked  her,  the  idea  coming  quickly  into  my 
head,  who  Sir  Lionel  was. 

But  she  would  not  tell  me,  though  she  said  she 
IS 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

had  heard  of  him.  She  said  that  she  believed  he  was 
a  very  rich  man. 

"Then  perhaps,"  said  I,  "he  has  come  to  buy 
Fouroaks." 

Miss  Trood  said  quickly  that  perhaps  he  had ;  but 
she  said  it  in  such  a  way  that  I  knew  that  was  not 

the  real  reason  of  his  visit,  and  I  wondered  what  that 
was. 

"Do  you  like  Mr.  Calstock  ?"  she  then  asked,  and 
I  could  see  that  she  did  not  care  what  I  said;  that 
she  only  said  it  for  the  sake  of  dropping  the  subject 
of  Sir  Lionel. 

I  said  I  had  scarcely  spoken  to  him,  and  that  he 
had  a  curious  face. 

"He  is  Lord  Rushbury's  solicitor,"  said  Miss 
Trood. 

I  said  I  thought  people's  lawyers  were  always 
old  men,  and  that  Mr.  Calstock  was  not  at  all  old. 

Then  she  said  that  the  firm  was  Calstock  and 
Penn,  and  that  Mr.  Calstock  was  the  son  of  the 
senior  partner. 

All  this  worried  me  a  little,  as  I  could  see  that 
these  gentlemen  had  come  on  some  business  that 
Papa  did  not  like;  for  he  was  silent  and  depressed 
all  the  time. 

16 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

When  they  came  in,  Sir  Lionel  came  straight  to 
me,  and  talked  about  all  sorts  of  things,  and  made 
me  laugh.  And  I  thought,  though  it  was  kind  of 
him  to  take  so  much  trouble  to  amuse  me,  that  I 
liked  him  less  than  I  did  at  first. 

He  told  me  he  had  been  so  much  amused  by  the 
glimpse  of  me  he  had  got  in  the  stable  that  morning, 
that  he  had  begged  my  father  to  let  me  come  down 
to  dinner. 

"And,"  he  said,  "I  then  saw,  what  I  had  guessed 
already,  that  Lord  Rushbury's  daughter  will  be  the 
most  beautiful  woman  of  her  season." 

I  was  quite  surprised,  and  rather  uncomfortable ; 
but  I  laughed  and  said  that  I  did  not  think  so. 

But  he  persisted,  and  said: 

"With  one  of  those  diamond  crowns  that  ladies 
wear  nowadays,  and  a  double  rope  of  pearls  round 
your  neck,  you  would  outshine  the  loveliest,  Lady 
Cecilia." 

I  was  so  abashed  by  the  way  he  stared  at  me,  and 
by  the  persistency  with  which  he  looked  and  spoke, 
that  I  could  say  nothing.  Then  he  said: 

"Would  you  not  like  to  see  yourself  wearing  the 
jewels  of  a  queen,  Lady  Cecilia?" 

Then  I  laughed,  and  said,  No;  I  should  not  care 
17 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

for  it;  and  that  I  liked  flowers  better  than  jewels, 
and  was  never  so  happy  as  in  my  riding  habit. 

He  seemed  much  amused,  and  said  I  was  a  sen- 
sible girl. 

And  as  I  looked  across  the  room  I  saw  Papa  and 
Mr.  Calstock  looking  at  me  in  a  most  curious  way — 
Papa  out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  as  if  he  did  not 
want  to  be  seen  looking,  and  Mr.  Calstock  in  a  very 
odd  way,  as  if  he  pitied  me. 

It  made  me  feel  quite  cold,  and  I  jumped  up  sud- 
denly from  the  chair,  and  let  the  kitten  fall  off  my 
lap.  Sir  Lionel  picked  it  up  and  gave  it  into  my 
arms  with  another  look  that  made  me  uncomfort- 
able. It  was  odd  how  I  liked  him  less  and  less  the 
more  kind  he  grew ! 

Then  I  had  to  play,  and  I  made  ever  so  many 
mistakes,  but  of  course  both  Sir  Lionel  and  Mr. 
Calstock  had  to  say  I  played  beautifully;  and  then 
Miss  Trood  accompanied  me  while  I  sang.  I  know 
I  was  horribly  out  of  tune,  for  I  was  nervous  and 
worried ;  I  did  not  know  why. 

But  Sir  Lionel  told  me  I  had  the  sweetest  voice 
he  had  ever  heard. 

When  I  said  good  night,  he  kissed  my  hand. 

I  did  not  like  that  at  all. 
18 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Papa  seemed  frightfully  nervous  when  he  kissed 
me,  and  as  I  came  upstairs  I  felt  the  tears  coming 
to  my  eyes. 

I  don't  quite  know  why  I  feel  so  miserable  to- 
night, but  I  suppose  it  is  because  of  the  way  Miss 
Trood  and  Kelly  began  the  day  by  crying,  and  then 
because  Papa  looked  so  worried  and  Mr.  Calstock 
so  grave. 

I  do  hope  something  dreadful  isn't  going  to  hap- 
pen! 

It  has  been  a  strange  day. 


FOUROAKS,  'January  '2nd. 

I  WAS  down  to  breakfast  before  anybody  else,  but 
Papa  came  into  the  room  a  minute  later,  and  whisked 
me  off  at  once  into  the  study,  next  to  the  breakfast- 
room.  I  could  see  that  his  hands  were  trembling  as 
he  took  me  to  the  window  and  said,  very  quickly : 

"Cis,  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  You're  eighteen  now, 
aren't  you?" 

I  was  frightened  by  the  look  on  his  face,  but  I 
said  that  I  should  be  eighteen  in  nine  weeks. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "how  would  you  like  to  be 
married  ?" 

I  nearly  screamed,  but,  of  course,  I  didn't  quite. 
When  I  had  had  time  to  get  breath,  I  said  that  I 
didn't  want  to  be  married  at  all  for  a  long  time. 
He  seemed  impatient,  and  he  cut  me  short. 

"Your  mother  married  me  when  she  was  only  a 
few  weeks  over  eighteen,"  he  said;  "and  I  think 
early  marriages  are  the  happiest.  I  want  you  to 
think  about  it." 

20 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  was  bewildered. 

We  said  nothing  to  each  other  for  a  little  while, 
and  then  an  idea  came  into  my  head,  and  I  said  in 
a  sort  of  whisper: 

"Papa,  has  Jack  been  speaking  to  you?" 

Papa's  voice  rang  out  so  sharply  that  I  was  quite 
startled. 

"Jack!   Jack  who?"  said  he. 

"Oh,  Papa,  Jack  Eardington,  of  course,"  I  an- 
swered, and  my  spirit  sank  as  I  saw  that  I  had  made 
a  dreadful  mistake. 

I  didn't  look  at  him  again,  for  I  knew  he  was 
angry. 

"Jack  Eardington !  Why,  he  hasn't  a  sixpence !" 
he  said  quickly. 

"He  likes  me,  I  think,"  I  said  in  a  very  low 
voice. 

"My  dear  child,  what  is  the  good  of  his  liking 
you,  or  any  girl  ?  The  chief  thing — the  only  thing 
you  must  have  if  you  want  to  get  married — is  money 
— lots  of  money." 

I  was  startled.  Quite  suddenly  I  looked  up  and 
said: 

"What  is  it,  Papa?" 

He  answered  without  looking  at  me: 
21 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Sir  Lionel  Eberhard  is  willing  to  marry  you. 
He  is  one  of  the  richest  men  in  England." 

Again  I  nearly  screamed. 

"Willing!"  I  said.  "Yes,  but  I'm  not  willing. 
And  I  should  think  you're  not  willing  either." 

He  looked  at  me  quickly,  and  I  could  see  that  he 
was  frightened. 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  asked. 

I  was  daring  now,  and  bold.  I  stood  up,  and 
looked  him  full  in  the  face: 

"You  wouldn't  want  me  to  marry  him,  would 
you?" 

"Why  not?" 

I  was  shocked.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  reasons 
were  plain:  Sir  Lionel  was  old,  he  was  not  hand- 
some or  charming,  and  somehow  I  was  sure  that 
he  did  not  belong  to  the  same  sort  of  people  as  Papa 
and  Mama  and  my  friends.  And  now  that  this  hor- 
rid suggestion  about  marrying  him  was  put  into 
my  head  I  found  out  quite  suddenly  that  I  didn't 
like  him  at  all. 

But  to  have  to  answer  Papa's  question,  put  in 
such  a  tone,  too,  was  dreadful.  I  felt  as  if  I  was 
choking. 

"He  is  much  older  than  I  am,"  I  said  in  a  whisper. 

22 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Yes,  yes;  I  know  that.  But  if  you  could  like 
him — he  would  be  generous  to  you,  and  he  would 
be  kind  to  you,  I  think,"  said  Papa. 

I  shook  my  head. 

"I  couldn't,  I  couldn't,  I  couldn't!"  I  gasped  out. 

Papa's  face  looked  dreadfully  white,  and  it 
cut  me  to  the  heart  to  think  I  was  disappoint- 
ing him.  But  he  patted  me  on  the  shoulder  and 
said: 

"All  right,  my  dear.  You  must  do  as  you  like, 
of  course.  But  if  you  were  a  little  older,  and  I  could 
talk  to  you  better- 
He  broke  off  suddenly,  and  patting  my  shoulder 
again,  ended  with  a  nod  and  a  smile,  and  again  said, 
"All  right,  my  dear." 

Then  he  turned  away  and  said : 

"Well,  come  to  breakfast.  They  will  be  down 
by  this  time." 

And  then  there  came  upon  me  the  strangest  feel- 
ing I  have  ever  had  yet.  Though  he  was  so  sweet 
and  so  kind,  and  though  he  turned  away  as  if  the 
dreadful  thing  he  had  spoken  about  was  dropped 
altogether,  I  had,  just  for  a  moment,  a  feeling  as 
if  I  had  suddenly  found  my  hands  and  feet  tied  up 
so  that  I  couldn't  move.  And  a  horrible  feeling 

23 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

came  over  me  that  something  was  hanging  over  me 
that  I  shouldn't  be  able  to  escape  from. 

Of  course,  it  all  passed  off,  and  we  went  into  the 
next  room  and  met  Sir  Lionel  and  Mr.  Calstock,  and 
found  Miss  Trood  trying  to  chirp  small  talk  to  them, 
while  they  left  it  to  her  to  do  the  talking.  I  shouldn't 
like  to  be  a  governess,  and  to  have  to  fill  up  gaps 
like  that,  talking  when  nobody  listens ! 

I  shook  hands  with  the  two  visitors  and  sat  down. 
But  I  thought  Sir  Lionel  looked  at  me,  and  smiled 
at  me,  as  if  he  had  said  something  to  Papa  about 
that  dreadful  thing,  and  as  if  he  was  not  prepared 
for  what  I  had  had  to  say. 

And  I  heard  Papa  say  to  him,  "Not  yet,"  as  they 
sat  down  to  breakfast. 

Before  eleven  o'clock  they  had  all  three  gone 
away,  and  at  once  I  went  to  Miss  Trood,  and  in- 
sisted that  she  should  tell  me  all  she  knew  about  Sir 
Lionel  Eberhard. 

She  refused  for  a  long  time,  but  presently  she 
seemed  to  make  up  her  mind  to  something,  and 
said: 

"He's  a  money-lender." 

"A  money-lender !"  I  said,  scarcely  believing  her. 

It  seemed  so  impossible  that  Papa  could  have 
24 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

thought  of  marrying  his  daughter  to  a  person  of 
that  sort.  I  suppose  she  saw  that  I  did  not  quite 
believe  her,  so  she  was  nettled  into  saying: 

"People  of  that  sort  are  received  into  society  now, 
as  they  would  not  have  been  in  the  days  of  Queen 
Victoria." 

I  wondered  whether  Papa  had  told  her  anything 
about  Sir  Lionel's  horrid  proposal.  Surely  she 
could  have  known  nothing  about  it  yesterday,  when 
she  cried  about  my  possible  marriage! 

I  made  up  my  mind  to  find  out. 

"Miss  Trood,  I  wish  you  would  let  me  see  the 
letter  you  got  from  Mama  yesterday." 

"Oh,  no.  Her  ladyship's  letters  are  confidential. 
I've  told  you  what  she  said." 

"Well,  tell  me  this:  did  she  say  anything  about 
Sir  Lionel?" 

Miss  Trood  looked  shocked. 

"Oh,  no,  of  course  not." 

"Sure?" 

"Quite,  quite  sure." 

"Tell  me  just  what  she  said  about  me,  about  what 
she  meant  me  to  do." 

She  looked  distressed  and  puzzled  for  a  moment, 
but  then  she  said : 

25 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"I  think  I  have  told  you  nearly  everything  already. 
She  wrote  that  you  were  nearly  eighteen,  that  it 
was  time  you  came  to  town,  to  be  presented  and 
taken  into  society.  And  she  added,  though  really  I 
scarcely  like  to  tell  you  such  details,  that  there  was 
a  difficulty  about  getting  all  the  money  that  would 
be  needed  to  give  you  a  proper  introduction  into 
the  world,  such  as  your  sister,  Lady  Marjorie,  had." 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders.  All  this  talk  about 
me,  as  if  I  were  a  "the  latest  spring  goods,"  to  be  on 
view  by  a  certain  date,  was  horrid. 

"I  wish  we  could  stay  quietly  here,"  I  said.  "All 
the  money  that  was  spent  on  poor  Marjorie  didn't 
do  her  much  good." 

Poor  Marjorie!  She  was  the  beauty  of  her  sea- 
son five  years  ago,  and  she  has  been  married  twice 
since  then,  and  I  know  she  can't  be  happy,  because 
as  soon  as  her  name  is  mentioned  people  look  un- 
comfortable and  change  the  subject.  And  I  never 
see  her  now,  and  I  have  never  seen  her  second  hus- 
band, Sir  Giles  Lufrenham,  at  all. 

Miss  Trood  at  once  suggested  a  walk  in  the  park, 
though  the  ground  was  still  in  a  dreadful  state  with 
the  half-melted  snow.  And  I  have  been  left  to  think 
about  these  things  by  myself  all  day. 

26 


FOUROAKS,  January  yd. 

Miss  TROOD  and  I  had  an  exciting  morning,  for  the 
parcel  post  brought  us  a  lot  of  most  beautiful  pres- 
ents from  Sir  Lionel  Eberhard.  I  felt  rather  guilty 
about  taking  mine,  and  she  looked  quite  scared 
when  she  found  that  she  had  her  share  of  the  good 
things. 

There  were  some  lovely  sweets  for  me,  in  a  white 
satin  box  shaped  like  a  Sedan  chair,  with  painted 
panels.  I  didn't  want  to  accept  it,  but  it  was  so 
very  pretty  that  I  had  to  uncover  it  and  look  at  it 
again,  and  then,  when  I  saw  Miss  Trood  eating  the 
sweets  out  of  her  box,  which  was  nearly  as  pretty 
as  mine,  I  couldn't  resist  eating  one  of  mine;  and 
then,  of  course,  I  couldn't  stop. 

Then  I  had  four  lovely  white  doves  of  some  spe- 
cial sort,  in  a  cage  tied  up  with  white  satin  ribbon. 
These  came  later,  having  been  sent  by  train. 

I  felt  that  I  liked  him  a  little  better  when  I  got 
the  doves. 

27 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

And  I  had  a  pretty  little  case  with  a  gold  chate- 
laine, which  I  shall  certainly  not  wear,  as  I  could 
not  bear  to  have  a  lot  of  things  rattling  and  jang- 
ling at  my  waist. 

And  there  was  a  great  bundle  of  new  music,  with 
some  songs.  And  on  Sir  Lionel's  card,  which  I 
found  pinned  to  one  of  the  songs,  there  was  writ- 
ten: 

"Songs  for  the  sweetest  singer  in  the  world." 

Really,  if  he  were  only  quite  different,  I  should 
have  to  say  he  does  the  thing  very  well. 

Miss  Trood  had  a  gold  brooch  in  the  form  of  a 
swallow  with  a  pearl  dangling  from  its  mouth.  I 
don't  think  I  ever  saw  anybody  so  pleased !  I  think 
she  felt  sorry,  then,  that  she  had  told  me  he  was  a 
money-lender,  for  she  was  careful  to  remark  during 
luncheon  upon  "the  wonderful  strides  good  breed- 
ing had  made  among  the  commercial  classes." 

/  knew  what  she  meant,  but  I  was  very  good, 
and  I  didn't  smile. 


FOUROAKS,  January  4th. 

SUCH  an  exciting  day! 

We  had  not  yet  left  the  breakfast-room,  where 
Miss  Trood  and  I  had  just  had  luncheon,  when  we 
were  told  that  Mr.  Eardington  was  in  the  Blue 
Saloon. 

I  knew  it  must  be  Jack,  and  when  Miss  Trood 
wanted  to  go  and  see  him  first,  I  wouldn't  let  her, 
so  we  went  in  together. 

Of  course  it  was  Jack,  looking  ever  so  much  nicer 
than  he  looked  when  I  saw  him  last,  and  as  jolly 
as  ever.  I  had  been  wondering  how  I  should  get 
a  talk  with  him,  without  Miss  Trood  to  listen.  But 
he  managed  it  beautifully.  He  has  such  a  way  of 
getting  round  people.  He  just  told  her  that  he  was 
going  to  take  me  for  a  ride,  and  though  she  did  not 
quite  like  it,  the  thing  was  settled,  for  I  ran  away 
at  once  to  put  on  my  habit,  leaving  it  to  him  to 
smooth  things  over  with  her. 

I  took  care  not  to  meet  Miss  Trood  again,  but 
29 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

waited  for  Jack  at  the  stables  instead  of  having  the 
horses  brought  round. 

He  came  running  across  the  grass,  which  is  nearly 
clear  of  snow  now,  and  we  mounted  and  trotted  off 
through  the  park. 

Oh, -it  was  lovely,  lovely,  lovely! 

I  asked  him  what  he  was  doing,  and  he  answered, 
"Nothing,  as  usual." 

Then  he  said,  "You  will  be  doing  something  be- 
fore me,  Cis,  so  I  hear!" 

I  felt  that  I  was  growing  horribly  red,  and  I 
asked  him  what  he  meant. 

"Why,  my  father  heard  from  Aunt  Vi  this  morn- 
ing, and  she  told  him  all  about  it.  So  I  thought  I'd 
run  down  and  see  you,  and  offer  my  congratula- 
tions." 

Although  I  pretended  not  to  know  what  he  was 
talking  about,  I  had  just  the  same  feeling)  I  had 
had  before,  right  in  the  midst  of  all  the  happi- 
ness of  seeing  Jack.  I  felt  as  if  my  feet  and 
hands  were  tightly  tied  up,  so  that  I  couldn't 
move. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  asked. 

Jack  laughed,  and  looked  at  me  with  a  mis- 
chievous expression. 

30 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Well,  I  know  it's  a  secret  still,  but  I  hear  you're 
going  to  make  a  great  match." 

"Mama  said  that?"  I  almost  shrieked. 

"Hush!  Don't  make  so  much  noise,"  said  Jack. 
And  he  looked  very  uncomfortable.  "Surely,  surely 
it's  all  right?"  he  said  nervously.  "Or  was  Aunt 
Vi  drawing  the  long  bow?  Isn't  it  settled?" 

"It  isn't  settled,  and  it  never  will  be,"  I  answered, 
"if  Mama  means  that  I'm  going  to  be  married  to 
that  horrid  Sir  Lionel  Eberhard." 

"Sir  Lionel  Eberhard!  Do  you  mean  it?  By 
Jove,  what  luck!" 

He  spoke  with  real  envy,  and  stared  at  me  as  if 
I  had  suddenly  become  an  object  of  enormous  ad- 
miration in  his  eyes.  I  was  disgusted,  and  when  we 
had  ridden  on  a  little  way  I  began  to  cry. 

Jack  was  all  kindness,  all  remorse  in  a  moment. 

"Why,  Cis,"  he  said,  "I  don't  understand  you! 
Aunt  Vi  wrote  to  my  father  telling  him  that  you 
were  going  to  marry  Eberhard,  and  asking  him  to 
lend  her  money  for  the  preliminary  expenses." 

I  felt  as  if  I  could  scarcely  breathe. 

"I'm  not  going  to  marry  him,"  I  said  faintly. 
"Papa  did  ask  me,  but  I  said  I  wouldn't.  Do  you 
know  him,  Jack?  Do  you  know  what  he's  like?" 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Oh,  yes,  everybody  knows  Eberhard.  They  say 
he's  worth  a  couple  of  millions.  All  the  women  in 
London  have  been  after  him,  trying  to  nail  him  for 
their  daughters — or  for  themselves.  And  to  think 
that  my  little  cousin,  not  yet  out,  should  be  the  lucky 
one,  after  all." 

"I  don't  think  it  lucky,  and  I  think  it's 
horrid,  simply  horrid  of  you,  Jack,  to  talk  as  if  you 
thought  it  possible  for  me  to  marry  a  man  I  don't 
like." 

And  I  burst  into  fresh  tears. 

Jack  drew  his  horse  close  to  mine,  and  put  his 
arm  round  me,  and  tried  to  kiss  me.  But  I  wouldn't 
let  him. 

"Don't,  don't,"  I  said.  "Oh,  Jack,  I  thought  you'd 
be  nice  to  me,  and  you — you " 

"My  darling  little  Cis,  I  didn't  mean  not  to  be 
nice.  You  don't  know  how  I've  been  thinking  of 
you,  and  longing  to  see  you.  And  then,  when  this 
news  came,  I  thought  it  was  a  good  excuse  for  com- 
ing." 

"What!  To  congratulate  me  on  marrying — an- 
other man!" 

It  seemed  terrible  to  me  to  have  to  say  this,  car- 
ing for  Jack  as  I  did,  and  hoping,  as  I  had  been 

32 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

hoping,  down  in  my  heart  of  hearts,  that  he  meant 
to  say  something,  oh,  so  different  to  me! 

"Another  man!"  He  repeated  the  words  softly, 
as  if  he  understood  at  last  what  was  in  my  mind. 
It  made  me  ashamed,  to  think  that  I  had  had  to  put 
the  idea  into  his  head.  He  reined  in  his  horse  till  he 
was  close  to  mine,  and  said  in  a  low  voice,  "Do 
you  think  I  would  have  let  you  marry  any  one  else, 
if  7  could  have  been  lucky  enough?" 

I  turned  to  him,  with  the  tears  running  down  my 
cheeks. 

"Oh,  Jack,  dear  Jack,  isn't  it  possible?"  I  sobbed. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"No,  dear.  We  shouldn't  have  any  money.  Your 
father  is  up  to  his  eyes  in  debt — doesn't  know  where 
to  turn  to  get  along ;  and  mine  never  had  any  money. 
How  could  we  live?  And  what  do  you  suppose 
Aunt  Vi  and  Uncle  Harold  would  say  if  I  were  to 
go  to  them  and  tell  them  I  wanted  to  marry  you? 
I  should  get  thrown  down  the  steps,  or  locked  up 
for  a  lunatic!" 

Each  word  he  said  was  like  a  stab  to  me.  I  had 
never  thought  much  about  these  things;  I  have  al- 
ways been  too  happy  to  worry  my  head  about  them. 
But  now  I  began  to  know  that  I  had  always  had, 

33 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

down  in  my  heart,  the  thought  that  some  day  Jack 
would  ask  me  to  marry  him,  and  that  we  should  be 
very,  very  happy. 

I  couldn't  answer,  and  I  couldn't  leave  off  crying. 
Suddenly  he  put  his  arm  round  me  again,  and  again 
he  tried  to  kiss  me.  and  I  brushed  him  away. 

"Don't  be  unkind,  Cis,"  he  said  plaintively.  "Why 
won't  you  let  me  kiss  you,  dear?" 

I  turned  to  him,  my  face  burning. 

My  voice  sounded  as  if  I  were  being  strangled. 

"I  can't,  I  can't,"  I  said.  "It  would  mean  so  much 
to  me,  to  kiss — any  one.  I — I  couldn't  do  it,  unless 
I  meant " 

He  let  his  arm  fall  down. 

"You're  an  odd  little  creature,"  said  he  in  a  low 
voice.  "If  you  feel  like  that  about  just  a  kiss  they 
ought  not  to " 

"Ought  not  to  what?" 

"Why,  they  ought  not  to  make  you  marry  Eber- 
hard." 

I  laughed.  It  was  so  absurd.  And  yet,  even  as 
I  laughed,  I  felt  that  dead  weight  fall  on  my  heart 
again. 

"They  can't  marry  me  against  my  will,"  I  said 
disjointedly. 

34 


THE  DIARY,  OF.  MY  HONEYMOON 

Jack  just  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Oh,  can't  they?"  said  he. 

After  that  I  don't  remember  what  we  said,  or 
whether  we  said  anything.  Those  words  have  rung 
in  my  ears  ever  since: 

"Oh,  can't  they?" 

When  he  went  away  after  tea  with  Miss  Trood 
in  the  Blue  Saloon,  the  words  seemed  to  form  them- 
selves into  a  tune,  and  I  have  heard  it  all  the  eve- 
ning. 

I  can  hear  it  now:  "Oh,  can't  they?  Can't  they? 
Can't  they?" 


BROOK  STREET,  January  6th. 
NOTHING  happened  yesterday,  but  oh,  to-day! 

We  got  Mama's  letter  this  morning,  telling  us 
to  come  up  to  town  at  once,  and  we  started,  Miss 
Trood  and  I,  soon  after  breakfast. 

I  never  felt  so  miserable  before  as  I  did  when  I 
went  down  to  see  Flurry  and  Fan  and  Folly,  and 
to  take  them  some  sugar.  I  knew  that  I  shouldn't 
be  allowed  to  come  back,  and  I  threw  my  arms 
round  their  necks  and  hugged  them  all,  one  after  the 
other.  Flurry  tried  to  bite  me ! 

Miss  Trood  knew  that  something  was  going  to 
happen,  for  she  didn't  chatter,  as  she  generally  does 
when  Mama  sends  for  us  in  a  hurry  in  a  letter  with- 
out any  stops  except  dashes. 

Kelly's  eyes  were  red,  of  course,  and  she  would 
kiss  me  when  she  said  good-bye.  I  hate  being  kissed 
by  Kelly.  She  is  a  good  old  thing,  but  when  she 
kisses  me  something  horrid  always  happens.  So  I 
always  feel  that  it  brings  bad  luck. 

36 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Mama  said  in  her  letter  that  we  had  some  shop- 
ping to  do,  and  that  she  should  meet  us  in  the 
brougham. 

Miss  Trood  and  I  scarcely  spoke  as  we  travelled 
up,  but  she  would  look  at  me  as  a  person  would  look 
at  a  pet  lamb  going  to  the  butcher's.  I  told  her  that, 
and  she  looked  cross  and  frightened,  and  said  she 
was  surprised  to  hear  such  a  simile  from  a  young 
lady's  lips. 

Miss  Trood  is  always  surprised  at  a  young  lady's 
doing  anything  but  sit  and  smile! 

I  wonder  what  governesses  really  think  of  their 
pupils!  I  suppose  they  tell  their  own  friends;  but 
they  don't  tell  us,  and  they  tell  something  quite  dif- 
ferent from  what  they  think  to  our  Papas  and 
Mamas ! 

Mama  was  on  the  platform  at  Euston,  looking 
more  beautiful  than  ever.  She  always  looks  so  sweet 
as  well  as  so  beautiful,  that  the  porters  run  about  for 
her  twice  as  fast  as  they  do  for  anybody  else,  though 
she  always  forgets  to  tip  them — on  purpose,  I  think. 

I  dare  say  she  feels  that  a  smile  from  her  is  as 
good  as  twopence  from  anybody  else,  and  she's  quite 
right. 

She  was  in  plain  navy  serge,  with  a  close  motor 

37 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

bonnet  and  a  long,  flowing  veil,  and  yet  she  looked 
like  a  queen,  so  tall  and  so  happy! 

I  clung  to  her,  I  wanted  to  make  her  tell  me, 
there  and  then,  that  it  would  be  all  right,  and  that 
I  shouldn't  be  forced  to  marry  Sir  Lionel,  but  of 
course  I  couldn't. 

She  was  as  merry  as  a  schoolgirl,  and  she  kissed 
me  so  affectionately,  and  she  packed  off  Miss  Trood 
to  Brook  Street  with  the  luggage  in  a  taxi-cab,  and 
took  me  straight  to  Bond  Street  in  the  brougham. 

She  smiled  at  me  and  took  hold  of  my  hand  when 
we  were  driving  out  of  the  station. 

"My  dear  child,"  she  said,  "how  well  you're  look- 
ing. Think  of  it.  I  haven't  seen  you  since  No- 
vember !" 

"Oh,  Mama,  why  didn't  you  come  down  for 
Christmas?"  I  said. 

She  laughed,  and  blushed  as  prettily  as  a  girl, 
and  put  her  finger  on  her  lip.  Then,  as  if  suddenly 
making  up  her  mind  to  confide  in  me,  she  said : 

"Oh,  well,  you're  grown  up  now" — these  words 
sounded  like  a  knell  to  me — "and  so  I  can  tell  you. 
Poor,  dear  old  Papa  was  so  hard  up,  and  we  were 
in  such  really  f-f-frightful  difficulties,  that — well, 
we  couldn't.  We  had  to  keep  very  quiet  indeed. 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

So  we  ran  down  to  Brighton  to  the  Metropole,  and 
had,  oh,  a  dreadful  time!" 

And  she  cast  up  her  pretty  blue  eyes  and  looked 
too  sweet  for  anything. 

/  didn't  think  it  sounded  dreadful  at  all,  but  I 
didn't  like  to  say  so.  Mama  was  very  confidential, 
but  she  has  a  way  of  shutting  herself  up  if  one  goes 
too  far  with  her,  and  I  wanted  her  to  be  very  ex- 
pansive indeed. 

"And  it  is  all  right  now,  Mama?"  I  asked. 

She  smiled  again  directly,  her  cheeks  form- 
ing those  pretty  dimples  that  made  her  look  so 
young. 

"Right?  Oh,  dear,  yes;  everything  is  going  on 
wheels,  my  dear !"  she  said,  with  a  little  sigh  of  hap- 
piness. 

Again  I  felt  that  awful  tightening  round  my 
heart,  that  I  had  had  two  or  three  times  lately,  but  I 
didn't  dare  to  say  anything  yet. 

"Am  I  to  be  presented  this  year?"  I  asked. 

She  laughed. 

"Of  course  you  are,  and  we  have  to  hurry  things 
through.  I  gave  the  orders  about  your  dress  this 
morning.  You  will  look  perfectly  sweet,  dear. 

White  trimmed  with  silver,  and " 

39 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Oh,  Mama,  won't  that  be  dreadfully  expensive? 
And  it  won't  be  of  any  use  afterwards,  you  know !" 

Mama  laughed  so  prettily,  showing  all  her  lovely 
front  teeth,  and  putting  her  head  archly  on  one  side. 

"Oh,  yes,  it  will,"  she  said. 

I  felt  that  I  was  stifling. 

"How?"  I  said. 

But  Mama  didn't  answer.  She  began  telling  me 
all  about  the  dress  she  had  ordered,  and  about  the 
trouble  she  had  had  over  the  trimming,  and  by  the 
time  her  rambling  story  was  over  we  were  at  Rus- 
sell and  Allen's. 

I  suppose  I  was  tired  after  my  journey,  but  the 
whole  day's  shopping  was  just  a  confused  blur  of 
stuffs  and  hats  and  gloves  and  shoes  and  what  Mama 
calls  frillies. 

Long  before  it  was  over  I  felt  that  I  was  being 
treated  like  a  doll,  having  my  things  tried  on,  and 
admired,  and  sent  home  and  paid  for,  without  any 
regard  to  what  I  myself  liked  or  wanted. 

Again  and  again  I  had  a  horridly  dressed-up  feel- 
ing as  I  stood  with  hats  on  my  head  and  sunshades 
in  my  hand,  that  Mama  liked  and  bought.  And 
again  and  again  I  said  that  I  didn't  want  so  many 
things,  when  I  heard  her  give  her  orders  in  dozens. 

40 


But  Mama  was  so  happy,  and  so  busy  giving  or- 
ders and  making  difficulties,  and  approving  and  dis- 
approving, that  my  little  bleat  of  remonstrance  was 
not  noticed  by  anybody.  The  women  who  took  the 
orders  smiled  at  me,  but  they  did  not  listen  to  me, 
only  to  Mama,  who  had  a  purseful  of  bank-notes, 
which  she  paid  away  with  the  prettiest  air  of  not 
knowing  exactly  how  much  she  was  paying. 

But  when  she  made  up  her  accounts  this  evening, 
when  we  got  home,  I  found  that  she  remembered 
every  single  purchase,  and  the  details  of  it,  and  how 
much  she  had  paid,  without  the  help  even  of  her 
bills. 

I  got  more  and  more  miserable  as  the  day  went  on, 
and  at  luncheon,  which  we  had  in  a  shop,  I  tried  to 
get  Mama  to  give  me  some  explanation  of  her  spend- 
ing so  much  money  on  me.  But  she  laughed  and 
went  on  eating  chicken,  and  just  patted  my  arm 
with  a  confidential  nod,  and  would  not  enter  into 
particulars. 

I  was  making  up  my  mind  for  a  firm  stand  against 
that  horrible  thing  which  I  saw  coming  towards  me. 
But  I  got  no  opportunity,  for  when  we  got  home 
Mama  declared  that  she  was  so  tired  she  could  not 
speak. 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

But  really  she  looked  as  fresh  as  a  daisy ;  it  was  I 
who  was  tired. 

She  rushed  into  my  room  to  look  at  me  before  I 
went  down  to  dinner,  and  she  pulled  my  hair  about 
with  her  own  hands,  and  put  a  necklace  of  pearls 
round  my  neck  and  a  rose  in  my  white  dress. 

And  then  I  found  that  we  were  not  to  dine  alone. 
There  were  two  ladies  I  knew  by  name,  friends  of 
hers,  and  a  nice  man,  whose  name  was  Major 
Cleeve. 

And  there  was  Sir  Lionel  Eberhard. 

I  felt  stupefied  when  I  saw  him,  and  I 
looked  towards  the  door  for  Papa,  that  I  mght 
speak  to  him,  and  beg  him  to  stop  what  was 
going  on. 

But  Papa  did  not  come,  and  we  all  went  in  to 
dinner,  and  I,  though  I  was  not  taken  in  by  Sir 
Lionel,  had  to  sit  by  him. 

I  don't  know  what  happened  at  dinner.  I  felt 
stunned. 

I  only  know  I  scarcely  spoke,  for  Mama  scolded 
me  when  they  were  all  gone,  and  told  me  that  ill 
temper  would  spoil  the  prettiest  girl. 

Then  she  asked  me  straightforwardly,  coldly,  with 
a  frank  look  into  my  eyes,  how  I  liked  Sir  Lionel. 

42 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"I  don't  like  him  at  all,"  I  said  hoarsely.  "But 
I  like  Major  Cleeve." 

Mama  looked  at  me  with  a  little  shrug. 

"Major  Cleeve  is  married,"  she  said  frigidly. 

"What  difference  does  that  make?"  I  said. 

Mama  said  nothing  for  a  moment,  but  I  saw  that 
she  grew  paler,  and  I  caught  sight  of  my  face  in  the 
glass  on  my  dressing-table,  for  she  had  followed  me 
into  my  room,  and  I  saw  that  I  was  looking  quite 
unlike  myself,  wild  and  bold  and  mad. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  she  said. 

But  she  didn't  laugh  as  she  generally  does;  it 
seemed  as  if  she  tried  to,  but  could  not. 

She  took  me  suddenly  by  the  shoulders  and  made 
me  sit  down,  and  said  she  would  do  my  hair  herself. 
I  tried  to  prevent  her,  because  I  knew  she  didn't 
know  anything  about  it,  and  that  she  would  hurt 
me;  but  she  persisted,  and  untied  the  ribbon  and 
took  out  the  frames  for  the  front,  and  pulled  out 
some  of  the  hair  with  the  hairpins  as  she  took  them 
out. 

She  talked  all  the  time,  so  that  I  should  not  be 
able  to  say  anything. 

"Leonie  shall  put  your  hair  up  to-morrow,"  she 
said,  when  she  had  taken  up  one  of  my  brushes  and 

43 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

was  hurting  me  horribly  with  it,  scratching  my  ears 
and  my  forehead  and  hitting  my  head  with  the  ivory 
part.  "Of  course  you  must  have  it  up  now." 

"Mama,  why  did  you  buy  me  so  many  things 
to-day,  so  many  more  than  I  wanted?"  I  asked. 

I  whisked  suddenly  round,  making  the  brush  fall 
out  of  her  hand,  and  dragging  my  poor  hair  away 
from  her  clutches. 

We  stared  into  each  other's  faces,  and  we  both 
breathed  so  noisily  that  any  one  outside  the  door 
might  have  heard  us,  I  should  think. 

Mama  saw  she  must  tell  me  everything,  and  in- 
deed it  didn't  matter,  for  I  knew,  I  couldn't  help 
knowing. 

"Surely  you  know,"  she  said  at  last,  putting  her 
hand  on  my  shoulder.  And  then  I  found  out  that 
she  was  not  quite  so  much  at  ease  as  she  pretended, 
for  I  could  feel  her  hand  trembling.  "Papa  told  you 
about  Sir  Lionel  Eberhard's  offer." 

"But,  Mama,  Mama,  I  can't  marry  him;  I  don't 
like  him." 

"Hush!"  Mama  came  close  to  me,  and  bent 
down,  and  said  quite  softly  in  my  ear,  "  Don't  cry 
out  and  make  a  fuss  about  it.  It  makes  me  miser- 
able. And  I  want  you  to  be  happy,  and  I  think  you 

44 


THE  DIARY,  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

will  be.  He  admires  you  enormously,  and  he  will 
treat  you  like  a  princess."  I  shook  my  head,  and 
she  then  asked  sharply,  "I  hope  those  silly  creatures 
down  there,  Kelly  and  Miss  Trood,  haven't  been 
telling  you  a  lot  of  absurd  stories?" 

"No.  I  haven't  heard  any  stories.  What  stories 
are  there  for  me  to  hear?" 

Mama  looked  half  relieved,  half  vexed. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  that  there  are  any,"  she  said, 
"except  that  there  are  always  ill-natured  people  to 
make  things  up  about  a  man  who  is  rich." 

"Is  it  true  he's  a  money-lender  ?" 

"There!    They  have  told  you  something!" 

"Surely  I  have  a  right  to  hear,  not  only  some- 
thing, but  everything,"  I  said  quite  grandly. 

Mama  seemed  impressed  for  a  moment,  and 
looked  at  me  as  if  I  were  somebody  else.  Then  she 
said  quickly: 

"Very  well.  I  would  rather  not  have  told  you, 
but  as  you  say,  you  have  a  right  to  know,  and  so  you 
shall.  Your  father's  affairs  were  desperate,  and  he 
tried  to  get  a  loan  from  Sir  Lionel  on  the  property 
at  Fouroaks.  That  was  the  business  that  took  them 
down  there  last  week.  He  and  Sir  Lionel  and  one 
of  the  lawyers.  But  the  security  was  not  good, 

45 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

for  there  are  burdens  on  the  property  already — mort- 
gages. I  don't  suppose  you  understand  what  that 
means  ?" 

I  did  in  a  way,  and  I  said  nothing,  but  let  her 
go  on: 

"Well,  when  Sir  Lionel  saw  you,  he  fell  in  love 
with  you,  and  before  the  day  was  over  he  proposed 
for  you  to  Papa.  He  was  very  generous,  let  us  have 
all  we  wanted  and  more,  and  made  the  handsomest 
offers,  so  that,  no  matter  what  may  happen,  you 
will  be  all  right.  There,  that's  all." 

"But  I  refused  him!" 

Mama  made  a  little  grimace. 

"Of  course  you  did.  What  else  could  such  a 
child  as  you  are  do  but  refuse?  Nobody  could  ex- 
pect you  to  do  anything  else,  ignorant  as  you  are. 
But  luckily  for  you  your  parents  were  at  hand  to 
arrange  things  for  you.  And  so  it's  all  settled." 

"No,  no,  I  won't  marry  him.     I  hate  him." 

"My  dear  pussy,  you  haven't  any  choice.  When 
a  man  as  rich  as  Sir  Lionel  asks  a  girl  to  marry 
him,  there  is  no  question  of  refusal  or  acceptance, 
believe  me.  Naturally,  he  is  not  a  man  to  make  a 
very  good  impression  at  first  sight  upon  so  young 
a  girl  as  you  are." 

46 


"I  did  like  him  at  first  sight.  It's  since  that  I 
don't  like  him.  He  is  so  ugly !  I  believe  his  teeth 
are  false." 

"Nonsense,  child.  We  all  have  false  teeth  when 
we  get  his  age." 

"His  age!"  I  caught  at  the  words.  "Yes,  how 
can  I  marry  a  man  old  enough  to  be  my  father  ?" 

"It's  a  much  better  look  out  for  a  girl  to  marry  a 
man  older  than  she  is  than  to  tie  herself  for  life  to 
a  selfish  boy." 

Did  Mama  know  anything  about  Jack,  I  won- 
dered ! 

"Well,"  said  I,  "you'll  see." 

"Yes,"  said  Mama,  cutting  the  word  off  sharply, 
as  if  using  a  knife.  "We  shall  see." 

She  kissed  me  quickly  and  went  away,  and  for 
a  little  while  I  sobbed  and  sobbed.  I  wouldn't 
marry  Sir  Lionel,  I  wouldn't,  I  wouldn't. 

But  all  the  time  I  knew  that  I  should  have  to,  that 
there  wasn't  any  question  about  it.  That's  why 
Papa  keeps  out  of  the  way.  He  knows  Mama  can 
do  anything  she  likes  with  anybody,  and  so  he's  just 
left  it  to  her. 

And  so  presently,  when  I  couldn't  see  out  of  my 
eyes,  I  just  opened  my  diary  and  wrote  it  all  down. 

47 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I've  just  read  it  all  through  from  November  last, 
and  I  can't  believe  it  was  I,  Cis,  that  wrote  all  those 
entries  about  my  ponies  and  my  puppies  just  before 
Christmas. 

This  is  growing  up,  I  suppose !  Oh,  I  hate  it  all ! 
I  hate  it  all ! 

I  won't  keep  my  diary  any  more!  It's  all  too 
dreadful. 


CALAIS,  March  2nd. 

I  WAS  married  yesterday :  I'm  eighteen  to-day ;  and 
I  wish  I  was  dead ! 

I've  had  two  horrible  months,  all  like  a  fever,  be- 
ing driven  about  and  played  with,  and  seeing  things 
I  didn't  want  to  see,  and  hearing  music  I  didn't  want 
to  hear,  so  that  it  seems  as  if  I  had  been  dreaming 
all  the  time,  just  to  wake  up  now  and  then  to  feel 
horribly,  horribly  frightened  and  shocked. 

And  at  last  I  began  to  think  I  should  be  glad 
when  it  was  all  over  and  I  could  be  quiet  and  rest. 

Rest!  Shall  I  ever  rest?  Shall  I  ever  be  quiet? 
Or  shall  I  go  on  and  on  till  I  go  mad  ? 

Oh,  Mama,  Mama,  how  could  you  let  me  do  it? 
Why  didn't  you  let  me  know? 

And,  Papa,  how  meanly  you  left  your  daughter 
in  the  lurch!  It  wasn't  like  you,  it  wasn't  fair! 

It's  twelve  o'clock,  and  I  am  alone  at  last,  thank 
God !  I  can  see  Sir  Lionel  walking  down  the  street 

49 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

with  that  heavy,  waddling  walk,  swinging  first  to 
one  side  and  then  to  the  other,  as  if  he  were  crushing 
things  as  he  goes  along.  Oh,  I  wish  he  would  never 
come  back! 

I'm  so  tired  that  I  can  scarcely  keep  my  eyes 
open;  but  I  can't  rest,  I  must  just  write,  write,  and 
so  I've  opened  my  poor  old  book  and  I'm  going  on 
just  where  I  left  off  two  months  ago,  when  I  first 
knew  that  I  had  been  sold. 

Sold!  Sold!  Papa  and  Mama  wouldn't  like  to 
be  told  that  by  any  one  but  me !  Mama  didn't  mind 
me  when  I  told  her  so  yesterday,  before  I  came  away. 
She  just  laughed,  and  told  me  I  was  a  silly  child, 
and  said  that  some  day  I  should  be  thankful  I  had 
had  such  a  good  mother,  who  went  on  steadily 
doing  her  duty  in  spite  of  difficulties  put  in  her 
way  by  the  very  people  who  ought  to  help  her! 
And  then  she  began  to  cry,  and  I  know  people 
must  have  said,  when  they  saw  her  red  eyes,  how 
sad  it  was  for  Lady  Rushbury  to  part  from  her 
daughter. 

But  I  knew  better.  She  was  just  angry  that  I'd 
found  her  out. 

Oh,  how  hard  I'm  getting!  I  suppose  I  ought 
not  to  be  so  hard,  and  to  feel  as  bitter  as  I  do  against 

50 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

them  both.  But  surely  they  ought  not  to  have  done 
it !  Surely  they,  rwho  knew  all  about  it,  ought  not 
to  have  sold  me  into  this!  It's  horrible,  horrible! 
Not  to  love  the  man  one  marries — that  must  be  hard. 
But  to  hate  him !  And  I  do  hate  him ! 

I  hate  it  all.  I  dread  the  future.  I  can't  bear  it 
even  now.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  stranded  on  a  desert 
island,  with  only  a  wild  animal  as  companion.  If 
only  I  had  the  courage  I  would  run  out  of  the  hotel 
and  down  to  the  harbour  and  jump  into  the  sea. 

But  I  daren't  even  go  outside.  And  I  know  some 
one  would  come  after  me,  and  bring  me  back  again, 
and  it  would  be  worse  than  ever. 

If  only  Mama  had  let  me  bring  old  Kelly  with 
me  instead  of  this  horrid  new  maid,  whom  I  don't 
like!  But  she  knew  better.  She  knew  I  was  going 
to  be  miserable,  and  she  wouldn't  trust  me  with  a 
friend.  Poor  old  Kelly !  And  to  think  I  didn't  like 
her  to  kiss  me !  Oh,  if  I'd  known  what  was  in  store 
for  me,  how  grateful  I  would  have  been  to  her  for 
loving  me  like  that,  for  being  sorry  for  me ! 

I  suppose  she  and  Miss  Trood  both  knew  that  I 
should  have  to  be  miserable.  That's  why  they  cried 
on  New  Year's  Day. 

And  Jack !    He  might  have  saved  me.    I'd  have 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

run  away  with  him  if  he  had  wanted  me  to.  We 
could  have  lived  quite  well  on  what  he  has,  I  feel 
sure.  Five  hundred  a  year  is  surely  not  so  very 
little;  and  he  has  that,  or  nearly  that,  I  know.  But 
though  he  was  so  nice,  coming  to  see  us  at  Brook. 
Street  so  often,  and  saying  how  lovely  I  looked  with 
my  hair  up,  and  wishing  things  could  have  turned 
out  differently,  he  never  said  a  word  about  marry- 
ing me,  but  took  it  all  for  granted,  and  congratu- 
lated me. 

He  said  he  should  meet  us  at  Monte  Carlo.  I 
wonder  whether  he  will  dare  to  look  me  in  the  face ! 
I  know  I  shan't  be  able  to  look  in  his ! 

And  Papa!  When  I  begged  him  to  stop  Mama, 
he  asked  me  why  I  was  so  obstinate,  and  whether 
there  was  anybody  else.  And  when  I  spoke  of  Jack, 
he  said  he  was  a  selfish  cub,  and  that  whoever  I 
married  would  be  a  better  husband  for  me  than  he 
would  be. 

I  think  that  was  just  the  last  straw.  Until  then 
I  had  hoped  and  hoped  that  I  should  be  able  to  crawl 
or  scramble  out  of  this  horrible  thing  somehow. 
But  when  Papa  said  that,  and  meant  it,  I  knew  that 
it  was  of  no  use  struggling. 

I  suppose  brothers  are  always  nasty  about  their 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

sisters'  marriages.  Penrhyn  told  me  I  didn't  de- 
serve half  my  luck,  and  that  he  hoped  I  wouldn't  be 
such  a  fool  as  Marjorie  had  been. 

I  asked  Mama  about  Marjorie  afterwards,  and 
at  first  she  put  me  off ;  but  afterwards  she  said  that, 
as  I  was  going  to  be  married,  I  might  as  well  know. 
And  she  said  that  Marjorie  had  run  away  from  her 
first  husband,  Mr.  Stoke,  who  was  a  very  rich  man, 
and  that  she  had  been  divorced  and  had  married  Sir 
Giles  Luffenham,  who  was  unkind  to  her. 

"It's  a  lesson  to  all  young  wives,"  Mama  said, 
"not  to  be  discontented  and  not  to  run  away  from 
their  husbands." 

"But  what  was  Mr.  Stoke  like,  Mama?"  I  said. 
"He  looked  horrid.  I  can  just  remember  him  at  the 
wedding.  I  remember  I  was  sorry  for  Marjorie 
then." 

Mama  said  stiffly  that  Mr.  Stoke  was  Marjorie's 
own  choice,  and  that  there  was  no  reason  why  she 
should  not  have  been  happy  with  him. 

"He  is  a  great  racing  man,"  she  said;  "and  as 
Marjorie  has  sporting  tastes  too,  there  was  a  bond 
of  union  between  them,  or  there  ought  to  have  been. 
But  she  was  foolish,  and  she  has  ruined  her  life. 
Now  no  one  will  speak  to  her." 

S3 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Poor  Marjorie!  These  last  words  of  Mama's 
made  me  shudder  when  she  spoke  them.  Did  she 
mean  that  a  daughter  was  no  longer  a  daughter  to 
her  when  she  did  anything  Mama  disapproved  of? 

And  I  wondered  whether  Marjorie's  "choice"  had 
been  like  mine! 

I  said  nothing,  and  Mama  went  on,  improving  the 
occasion : 

"Girls  should  not  think,  when  they  marry,  that 
they  will  have  everything  they  want,  and  that  there 
will  be  nothing  in  life  to  put  up  with.  That  is  an 
impossible  state  of  things.  There  must  always  be 
little  causes  of  disagreement  between  the  most  de- 
voted husband  and  wife ;  but  the  wise  ones  make  the 
best  of  it,  and  remember  the  reasons  why  they  mar- 
ried, and  are  content  with  something  less  than  ideal 
happiness." 

This  was  two  days  before  my  marriage,  and  I 
was  past  caring  what  I  said  about  it. 

"I  shall  certainly  not  be  ideally  happy,  and  as  the 
only  reason  for  my  marriage  was  that  you  and  Papa 
wanted  it,  it  is  you,  not  I,  who  will  have  to  ask  your- 
selves whether  you  are  satisfied  with  the  result  of  it," 
I  cried. 

Mama  looked  rather  shocked. 
54 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"My  dear  Cis,"  she  said,  "you  mustn't  talk  like 
that.  You  don't  suppose  we  should  have  allowed 
you  to  marry  a  man  a  girl  couldn't  care  for,  do 
you?"  she  said. 

"Why,  yes,  certainly  I  do.  I  can  never  care  for 
Sir  Lionel,  and  I  can't  pretend  to." 

"Well,  if  he  is  satisfied,  that  is  all  right,"  said 
Mama  quickly.  "The  French  proverb  says :  'II  y  a 
toujours  un  qui  baise,  et  un  qui.  tend  la  joue.'  It 
is  much  better  for  the  wife  to  be  the  one  who  offers 
her  cheek  to  be  kissed,  and  for  the  husband  to  be 
the  one  who  kisses." 

"Ugh!"  said  I,  and  Mama  promptly  began  to 
talk  about  something  else. 

I  only  saw  poor  old  Kelly  once  while  I  was  in 
town,  and  then  Mama  stood  by  all  the  time  she  was 
there.  I  could  see  that  Kelly  wanted  to  tell  me  some- 
thing, and  that  Mama  knew  it  and  would  not  let  her. 
She  had  worked  me  a  little  pincushion  as  a  wedding- 
present,  and  I  promised  her  to  keep  it  always  on  my 
dressing-table.  It  is  there  now.  I  have  a  sort  of 
superstition  about  it,  and  I  wouldn't  lose  it  for  the 
world.  It  is  the  one  present,  of  all  those  I've  had, 
that  makes  me  feel  a  lump  in  my  throat  when  I  look 
at  it.  Poor  old  Kelly,  that  I  thought  such  a  bore 

55 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

when  she  was  with  me !  What  would  I  give  to  have 
her  with  me  now !  How  I  would  cry,  with  my  arms 
round  her  neck !  I  couldn't  tell  her  all  I've  felt  and 
all  I've  suffered ;  but  it  would  be  just  enough  to  cry, 
and  to  feel  her  arms  round  me. 

Even  Miss  Trood  was  kept  away  from  me !  If  I 
had  only  known! 

They  both  wanted  to  tell  me  something,  I  am 
sure ;  and  now  I  think  it  would  have  been  something 
that  might  have  prevented  all  this. 

Would  it  though  ?  Even  if  I  had  known  how  hor- 
rible it  was  all  going  to  be,  could  I  have  stopped  it  ? 
Could  I  have  let  Mama  look  as  she  would  have 
looked  ? 

There  was  only  one  thing  I  could  have  done,  I 
could  have  run  away. 

But  where  could  I  have  run  to  ?  And  what  would 
have  happened  when  I  was  caught?  I  should  have 
had  to  go  through  with  it,  I  suppose,  just  the  same. 
With  Sir  Lionel  angry  instead  of  as  he  is! 

But  that  would  have  been  better.  Oh,  yes;  it 
would  have  been  better! 

Oh,  I  can't  think  of  it  all  without  crying  again! 

To  think  that  only  yesterday  morning  I  was  still 
just  little  Cis  Rushbury,  living  in  a  fairytale!  And 

56 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

now — now  I  know  it  was  all,  all  wrong,  and 
silly,  and  that,  instead  of  being  the  princess  they 
pretended,  I  am  just  a  broken-hearted  thing — not  a 
woman,  but  a  miserable  helpless  animal.  I  should 
like  to  go  and  hide  myself  somewhere  out  of  the 
light,  and  cry  and  cry  until  I  was  too  stupid  to  think. 

And  to  know  that  I  must  go  on  with  it,  that  no 
change  can  come  except  for  the  worse.  For  it  will 
be  worse,  and  it  must  be,  when  he  finds  out  how  I 
feel.  And  I  can't  hide  it  for  ever!  Already  he 
must  guess,  I  think. 

But  I  don't  think  he  even  cares. 

It's  horrible! 

I  used  to  wish  I  were  a  man,  so  that  I  could  ride 
in  steeple-chases.  I  don't  wish  that  now;  no,  no. 
But  I  wish  I  had  never  been  born  at  all.  The  world 
is  not  the  place  I  thought  it  was. 

I  should  have  liked  to  be  a  Roman  Catholic,  so 
that  I  could  be  a  nun. 

Should  I  still  wish  that,  if  it  had  been — Jack? 

I  don't  know.  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  think  I 
should  wish  it  all  the  same. 

I  don't  understand  it  all  yet;  that  yesterday  I 
should  have  been  free,  and  that  now  I  can  never 
be  free  again.  Why  should  women  have  to  suffer 

57 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

like  this?  And  why  shouldn't  they  know  it,  and 
have  their  choice? 

Oh,  Mama,  you  treated  me  badly;  you  sold  me! 
It  wasn't  fair! 

I  wonder,  if  the  clergyman  who  married  us  had 
known,  whether  he  would  have  performed  the  cere- 
mony just  the  same!  I  am  afraid  he  would.  I  am 
afraid  he  would  have  been  more  shocked  by  the  idea 
of  his  having  any  responsibility  in  the  matter,  than 
by  what  he  had  to  do  in  tying  a  girl  of  eighteen  for 
life  to  a  man  nearly  fifty. 

It  seems  strange  that,  though  it  happened  only 
yesterday,  I  am  scarcely  able  to  remember  anything 
about  the  wedding.  It  is  just  a  hazy,  mazy  recol- 
lection of  a  crowded  church,  and  a  rush,  and  then 
another  crowd  outside,  and  then  another  crowd  at 
Brook  Street. 

And  then  Mama,  looking  different,  as  if  she  too, 
at  last,  was  a  little  frightened  at  what  she  had  done, 
when  I  nearly  fainted  in  my  room  while  they  were 
dressing  me  to  come  away. 

She  was  very  kind  then,  and  gave  me  one  last  lec- 
ture very  nicely  and  affectionately.  She  told  me  I 
must  be  a  brave  girl,  and  try  to  please  my  husband, 
and  that  I  must  remember  that,  even  if  at  first  I  was 

'58 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

not  very  happy,  I  must  put  a  brave  face  upon  the 
matter,  and  remember  that  the  first  duty  of  a  gentle- 
woman was  to  show  a  brave  spirit  and  to  keep^a 
smiling  face,  and  to  make  herself  respected  as  well 
as  loved. 

I  think  that,  while  Mama  was  talking  to  me,  Papa 
was  talking  to  Sir  Lionel,  for  I  found  them  together 
at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  when  I  came  down;  and 
Papa  was  looking  grave  and  Sir  Lionel  angry. 

Papa  looked  very  nervous  when  he  kissed  me, 
and  he  came  to  the  carriage  door  and  held  my  hand, 
and  looked  at  me  so  kindly,  so  anxiously,  and  told 
me  to  cheer  up,  and  to  enjoy  myself,  and  to  write 
to  him  and  tell  him  all  I  did. 

And  then  we  drove  away,  and  I  was  glad,  at  least 
for  the  moment,  to  have  got  out  of  all  that  crowd. 
But  when  I  looked  at  Sir  Lionel  I  was  not  glad  any 
longer.  He  was  irritated  by  something  Papa  must 
have  said  to  him,  and  at  first  he  was  quite  cross  and 
snappish.  I  didn't  care  really;  I  liked  it  better  «than 
being  kissed  by  him. 

He  was  kind  to  me  on  the  journey,  and  I  did  my 
best  to  talk  and  not  to  be  frightened  by  that  lonely 
feeling  which  was  growing  stronger  every  minute. 
For  I  felt  exactly  as  if  I  were  with  a  stranger,  to 

59 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

whom  I  had  to  exert  myself  to  be  civil  when  he  was 
boring  me.  But  it  seemed  so  strange  to  me  to  see 
him,  when  we  got  to  Dover,  turn  round  to  stare  at 
a  very  smartly  dressed  woman  who  looked  like  an 
actress,  and  to  see  him  follow  her  to  get  a  good  look 
at  her  face. 

There  was  something  about  this  that  I  could  not 
help  noticing,  and  it  disgusted  me.  It  made  me 
suddenly  understand  something  of  the  sort  of  thing 
Papa  must  have  said  to  him,  and  it  made  me  tell 
myself  again  that  Papa  ought  not  to  have  let  me 
marry  Sir  Lionel. 

Then  we  went  on  board  the  turbine,  and  I  had  to 
be  shut  up  in  one  of  those  little  cabins,  when  I  should 
have  liked  to  walk  about  and  feel  the  sea-breeze  in 
my  face. 

But  Sir  Lionel  was  sea-sick,  so  I  left  him  with 
the  steward,  and  stole  out  and  had  a  delicious  walk 
on  the  upper  deck.  The  people  looked  at  me  so 
much  that  I  felt  uncomfortable,  and  wondered 
whether  they  knew  who  I  was.  But  of  course  it  was 
only  that  they  all  guessed  I  was  just  married,  for 
one's  new  things  "give  one  away,"  as  Penrhyn 
calls  it. 

Mama  and  Leonie  had  tried  hard  to  make  me  in- 
fo 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

terested  in  my  clothes;  but  I  didn't  care  what  they 
put  on  me.  I  have  always  hated  to  be  dressed  up, 
and  now  I  feel  just  like  a  doll,  for  everything  I  have 
is  much  too  smart  to  be  worn.  All  my  clothes  look 
like  those  one  sees  in  the  ladies'  newspapers,  only  fit 
to  be  looked  at.  This  very  morning  gown  that  I  have 
on  now  is  absurd:  white  cashmere,  which  will  get 
soiled  directly,  and  ever  so  much  lace,  and  lots  of 
silly  little  pale  blue  ribbons  going  in  and  out  of  the 
lace  and  getting  in  my  way  as  I  write. 

I  didn't  want  to  put  it  on,  but  that  horrid  Hanway 
laid  it  on  the  bed  for  me  this  morning,  and  it  wasn't 
worth  arguing  about,  so  I  let  her  put  it  on  me. 

I  wonder  whether  Sir  Lionel  means  to  go  on  to 
Paris  to-day.  He  stayed  here  last  night  because  he 
was  so  ill  crossing  that  he  was  afraid  of  the  train 
journey. 

I  could  almost  have  laughed  at  him  for  being  sea- 
sick. It  was  rather  a  rough  crossing,  but  I  thought 
it  lovely.  Partly,  I  dare  say,  because  I  was  able  to 
get  away  out  of  the  cabin  and  be  by  myself.  But 
I  took  care  not  to  say  what  I  thought. 

Here  he  comes !  I  can  see  him  in  the  distance.  I 
should  know  him  by  his  walk  anywhere. 

How  hideous  he  is!  I  wonder  I  never  guessed 
61 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

that  his  hair  was  dyed!  Shall  I  ever  get  not  to 
mind?  Not  to  mind  anything,  I  mean! 

I  must  try,  try  hard.  Mama  is  right.  It's  under- 
bred not  to  be  brave,  and  not  to  look  as  if  one  didn't 
mind. 

I  won't  show  anything  of  what  I  feel;  no,  I  won't, 
I  won't,  I  won't. 

But  it's  a  comfort  to  be  able  to  write  what  is  in 
my  heart.  I  shall  go  on  with  my  diary  again,  only 
now  I  shall  have  always  to  write  in  the  mornings 
instead  of  at  night 

Good-bye,  Diary  dear.  He's  coming  into  the 
hotel,  I  must  lock  you  up. 


PARIS,  March  6th. 

WE  have  been  here  four  days,  but  this  is  the  first 
time  I  have  been  able  to  get  out  my  diary  and  write 
in  it.  We  came  on  here  after  the  one  night  at  Calais, 
and  the  train  journey  seemed  awfully  long,  because 
I  was  so  tired  and  sleepy. 

The  rooms  here  are  the  handsomest  I  ever  saw  in 
a  hotel,  and  are  much  better  furnished  than  either 
of  Papa's  houses.  Sir  Lionel  says  we  have  the  suite 
used  by  royalty.  He  prides  himself,  of  course,  on 
having  what  is  best  everywhere.  We  always  have 
the  best  box  in  a  theatre,  and  the  best  room  at  a 
restaurant;  and,  of  course,  on  a  train  journey  we 
have  a  compartment  to  ourselves. 

I  should  like  it  much  better  if  we  just  took  our 
seats  with  everybody  else,  and  I  hope  we  shall  pres- 
ently, when  Sir  Lionel  gets  as  tired  of  my  society 
as  I  am  of  his. 

And  yet  I  am  afraid,  when  that  happens,  it  won't 
63 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

be  so  much  better  as  I  had  hoped  at  first.  Sir  Lionet 
is,  I  am  now  sure,  a  very  bad-tempered  man,  and  so 
used  to  having  his  own  way  in  the  smallest  thing, 
that  he  is  rude,  almost  brutal,  if  he  is  thwarted  in 
any  way. 

I  take  the  greatest  pains  to  be  always  amiable  and 
always  smiling;  but,  although  we  have  not  yet  been 
married  a  week,  I  think  he  is  beginning  to  be  tired 
of  me  already.  At  least,  he  sometimes  speaks  very 
abruptly  to  me,  as  he  did  not  at  first,  although  I  can 
see  that  he  is  proud  of  me  in  a  way,  and  always  very 
anxious  that  I  shall  look  my  best. 

This,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  have  lamentably  failed 
to  do  since  I  came  to  Paris.  I  get  so  dreadfully, 
dreadfully  tired,  that  I  always  look  very  pale,  and 
am  so  languid  that  it  is  a  great  relief  when  we  get 
into  a  fiacre,  and  I  can  sit  back  quietly  and  don't 
have  to  talk. 

Luckily  for  me,  Sir  Lionel  is  rather  deaf  on  the 
right  side,  so  when  we  are  driving  I  don't  have  to 
talk,  but  only  to  smile. 

I  love  these  little  fiacres,  though  Sir  Lionel  thinks 
they  are  not  good  enough  for  him,  and  does  nothing 
but  grumble  at  them  all  the  time.  I  have  seen  a 
great  many  Paris  streets  like  that,  and  one  day 

64 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

we  went  out  in  a  motor-car  to  Versailles,  and  that 
was  interesting.  But  it  was  very  cold,  and  I  felt 
quite  frozen  when  I  got  back,  and  Sir  Lionel  looked 
at  me  as  if  he  thought  me  very  ugly* 

So  I  was! 

In  the  evenings  he  takes  me  to  horrid  places  that 
I  don't  like,  music-halls  and  cafes  where  they  sing. 
They  are  crowded  and  stuffy,  and  full  of  the  most 
horrid-looking  people.  Women  with  painted  faces, 
who  stare  at  Sir  Lionel  and  even  talk  to  him,  and 
who  laugh  at  me. 

And  men  who  all  look  like  Sir  Lionel,  except  the 
Englishmen,  who  sometimes  look  at  me  as  if  they 
were  surprised  to  see  me  there. 

I  am  surprised  myself,  and  so,  I  think,  would 
Papa  be  if  he  were  here. 

I  told  Sir  Lionel  yesterday  evening  at  dinner  that 
I  didn't  like  the  French  idea  of  gaiety,  though  I  had 
heard  so  much  about  it,  and  he  laughed,  and  said  I 
need  not  go  to  any  more  theatres  unless  I  liked. 

I  think,  though,  I  might  like  to  go  to  a  proper 
theatre,  where  they  played  a  piece,  though  I  dare 
say  I  shouldn't  be  able  to  understand  it  very  well. 
But  it  seems  strange,  when  Mama  would  not  even 
let  me  go  to  the  Palace  music-hall  in  London,  that 

65 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

here  I  should  go  to  all  these  music-halls,  where  I 
know  she  would  be  shocked  if  she  could  see  me. 

Just  because  I  am  married  I  am  supposed,  I  see, 
to  be  able  to  go  to  any  horrid  place  in  the  world. 
Marriage  seems  horrible  altogether,  as  far  as  my 
experience  goes.  It  is  true  I  have  only  been  married 
less  than  a  week,  but  the  whole  world  seems  changed 
for  the  worse. 

I  can  see  that  Sir  Lionel  thinks  me  a  prig,  and 
though  at  first  it  amused  him  to  hear  what  I  thought 
— though  I  was  always  careful  not  to  say  one-half 
of  it — now  he  frowns  at  me  a  little,  and  stares  as  if 
he  wanted  to  tell  me  to  look  different. 

Altogether  I  feel  rather  like  a  wild  plant  pulled 
up  out  of  its  native  wood  and  planted  in  a  hothouse, 
where  it  at  once  becomes  nothing  more  or  less  than 
a  weed! 

And  I  wish  some  one  would  pull  me  up  by  the 
roots  and  throw  me  out  again! 


66 


PARIS,  March  gth. 

FOR  three  evenings  now  I  have  had  my  evenings  to 
myself,  Sir  Lionel  going  out  directly  after  dinner, 
and  not  coming  back  until  long  after  I  have  gone 
to  bed.  I  sat  up  the  first  evening  until  I  fell  asleep 
in  my  chair,  and  after  that  he  told  me  not  to  tire 
myself  like  that. 

It  was  lucky  for  me  that  I  didn't  wait  up  last 
night,  for  he  never  came  home  at  all.  It  appears 
he  could  not  make  the  hotel-porter  hear,  so  the 
French  hotels  are  really  less  well  managed  than 
in  England,  for  I  am  quite  sure  in  London  such  a 
thing  could  not  have  happened. 

However,  it  did  not  matter  to  me,  as  I  had  a 
lovely  night,  and  did  not  know  anything  about  it 
till  this  morning. 

We  always  have  cafe  complet  in  our  room,  and 
the  French  dejeuner  a  la  fourchette  at  eleven,  and 
Sir  Lionel  came  in  just  in  time  for  that. 

67 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

He  was  very  apologetic  indeed;  and  he  brought 
me  a  fan,  which  is  very  pretty,  with  pearl  sticks  and 
lace  and  a  little  painting  in  the  middle.  But  really 
I  have  so  many  handsome  things  that  I  don't  want 
already,  that  I  found  it  difficult  to  be  grateful 
enough. 

Sir  Lionel  was  very  nice  indeed  to  me  at  break- 
fast, telling  me  a  lot  of  interesting  things  about  the 
different  Paris  buildings,  so  that  I  liked  him  better 
than  usual.  And  I  was  feeling  better,  and  there- 
fore looking  better,  and  he  told  me  so,  and  seemed 
pleased  that  I  did  not  mind  his  having  left  me. 

I  told  him  frankly  that  I  was  not  frightened,  be- 
cause I  fell  asleep  and  never  woke  up  till  morning. 

Now  that  Sir  Lionel  goes  out  after  dinner  I  can 
write  in  my  diary  in  the  evening  instead  of  the 
morning,  which  I  like  better.  And  I  can  write  my 
letters.  I  take  great  care  not  to  tell  them  things 
I  think  they  would  not  like  to  hear,  about  my  im- 
pressions of  what  I  see.  I  can't  help  feeling  rather 
bitter  about  it,  for  they  might  have  known  Sir 
Lionel  was  not  the  right  husband  for  me;  but  since 
they  saw  no  harm  in  giving  me  to  him,  it  is  of  no 
use  to  tell  them  things  which  might  make  them  un- 
comfortable, 

68 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

But  I  shall  speak  out  my  mind  very  plainly  when 
I  see  them  again!  Oh  dear,  when  will  that  be? 
And  what  shall  I  have  to  go  through  first?  I  do 
feel  so  horribly,  horribly  lonely,  and  sorry  for  my- 
self. It  would  have  been  so  easy  to  make  me  happy, 
and  they  have  taken  such  elaborate  pains  to  make 
me  miserable! 

I  hope  Sir  Lionel  really  helped  them  very  hand- 
somely; since  I  had  to  be  sold,  I  hope  I  was  not 
sold  cheap. 

I  have  had  a  tiring  day.  We  drove  out  to  see  the 
races  this  afternoon,  and  I  wondered  what  poor 
Miss  Trood  would  say  to  my  going  to  races  on  a 
Sunday.  But  they  don't  think  anything  of  that  here. 

It  was  very  bright,  and  the  ladies  were  so  beauti- 
fully dressed  that  it  was  amusing  to  look  about  one. 
Sir  Lionel  pointed  out  to  me  a  great  many  exqui- 
sitely dressed  women  who,  he  said,  were  the  leading 
Paris  beauties,  but  they  are  not  people  one  would 
like  to  know,  though  they  look  so  pretty. 

One  of  them,  who  was  dressed  in  what  looked 
like  a  suit  of  flexible  armour  over  a  very  pale  pink 
dress,  with  the  most  enormous  hat  I  ever  saw,  made 
Sir  Lionel  come  to  the  side  of  her  motor-car  and 
talk  to  her. 

69 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

She  seemed  to  know  him  quite  well,  and  I  could 
see  that  she  was  making  him  laugh  very  much,  amus- 
ing him,  and  making  herself  very  amiable.  And  I 
wondered  why  he  had  not  married  a  woman  like  her 
instead  of  me.  It  is  impossible  to  imagine  two 
women  more  unlike  each  other  than  his  wife  and 
this  woman,  whom  he  evidently  admires  very  much. 

When  he  came  back  to  the  voiture  I  was  in,  which 
was  a  little  hired  victoria  with  a  coachman  who 
wore  a  cockade  in  his  hat,  I  asked  him  who  the  lady 
was  in  the  pink  dress,  as  if  I  had  not  seen  him  talk- 
ing to  her. 

At  first  he  would  not  tell  me,  but  by  and  by  he 
said  she  was  a  well-known  actress,  and  considered 
the  best-dressed  woman  in  Paris.  He  said  he  would 
take  me  to  the  theatre  to  see  her.  Although  I 
wanted  to  go  to  the  theatre,  I  was  not  so  very  anx- 
ious to  go  after  his  saying  that.  I  don't  know  ex- 
actly why,  except  that  it  seemed  strange  for  him  to 
know  her  so  well  and  to  talk  and  laugh  with  her 
before  me,  and  then  to  answer  me  as  if  she  was  not 
the  sort  of  person  for  me  to  know. 

I  certainly  am  not  jealous,  but  it  does  not  seem 
quite  right  that  I  should  be  taken  to  see  her  act. 
At  least,  it  makes  me  rather  uncomfortable. 

70 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  wish  Mama  were  here. 

Sir  Lionel  made  some  bets  for  me,  and  I  know 
that  he  also  made  some  for  Mademoiselle  Diane,  as 
he  calls  her.  I  lost  every  time,  but  it  did  not  much 
matter,  as  it  was  not  my  money.  But  I  should  like 
to  have  some  money  of  my  own,  instead  of  having 
everything  paid  for  by  Sir  Lionel,  and  I  am  hoping 
that,  when  we  get  to  Monte  Carlo,  I  shall  be  able 
to  win  some  for  myself  at  the  gaming-table. 

We  have  had  dinner,  and  Sir  Lionel  has  gone  out, 
and  now  I  have  written  this  I  am  going  to  write  to 
Papa  and  to  dear  old  Kelly. 

I  shall  be  very  careful  what  I  say  to  her,  or  she 
would  cry  all  night! 


PARIS,  March  nth. 

YESTERDAY  morning  Sir  Lionel  took  me  out  shop- 
ping, and  bought  me  a  lot  of  things  I  do  not  want. 
He  seemed  rather  annoyed  because  I  left  the  choice 
of  everything  to  him,,  or  else  chose  just  what  he  con- 
sidered the  wrong  things.  But  really  I  can't  like 
these  enormous  hats,  with  a  whole  forest  of  birds 
and  vegetation  on  them,  and  I  know  quite  well  that  I. 
should  look  perfectly  ridiculous  in  them. 

He  says  what  I  want  is  "style,"  so  that  I  see  quite 
plainly  I  shall  never  reach  his  ideal !  And  yet,  was 
there  so  much  "style"  about  me  that  first  day,  when 
he  saw  me  escaping  upstairs  in  Kelly's  old  ulster, 
with  one  shoe  off  and  a  lovely  fringe  of  wet  petti- 
coats dangling  round  my  ankles? 

In  the  evening  he  took  me  to  a  real  theatre,  and 
there  I  saw  Mademoiselle  Diane  on  the  stage.  I 
see  that  her  name  in  the  programme  is  Mademoiselle 

D M . 

72 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

She  acted  beautifully,  and  though  I  could  not  un- 
derstand it  all,  I  could  see  that  she  was  fascinating. 
And  her  dresses  were  most  beautiful  and  just  right. 

Sir  Lionel  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  her,  and  I 
said  I  thought  she  was  very  graceful  and  charming. 

"So  she  is,"  he  said. 

"I  suppose  those  dresses  she  wears,  that  look  so 
simple,"  I  then  said,  "must  cost  a  great  deal." 

"She  spends  about  twice  as  much  upon  her  dress 
as  any  other  woman  in  Paris.  Perhaps  you  know 
what  that  means,"  said  he. 

I  have  no  doubt  it  means  a  great  deal,  but  I  didn't 
care  to  say  any  more  about  it,  and  presently  Sir 
Lionel  went  out,  and  I  sat  in  the  box  by  myself 
through  the  next  two  acts. 

When  he  came  back,  Sir  Lionel  asked  me  whether 
I  should  mind  staying  a  few  days  longer  in  Paris, 
and  I  said,  "No." 

He  said  he  might  have  a  little  business  to  do,  and 
hoped  I  should  not  mind  if  he  left  me  alone  a  little. 
And,  of  course,  I  said,  "No" ;  but  to-day  I  have  felt 
rather  lonely,  though  I  must  acknowledge  that  Sir 
Lionel  did  not  forget  me,  as  I  received  this  afternoon 
another  present  from  him  about  which  he  had  said 

73 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

nothing,  boxes  and  boxes  of  what  Mama  calls  fril- 
lies, the  prettiest  and  daintiest  I  ever  saw. 

I  wonder  he  never  said  anything  about  what  was 
coming.  I  feel  rather  surprised  and  even  hurt  that 
my  own  things  were  not  considered  good  enough  by 
Sir  Lionel,  and  to  tell  the  truth  I  don't  quite  like  all 
these  silk  and  lace  underclothes.  It  is  bad  enough 
to  have  to  feel  dressed  up  outside,  but  the  feeling  of 
being  dressed  up  inside  as  well  is  not  nice. 

With  these  cobwebby  petticoats  and  satin  corsets 
trimmed  with  lace  and  gold  and  silver  ribbon,  I  shall 
feel  more  like  a  doll  than  ever ! 

I  have  just  written  to  Papa,  and  to  Mama  too. 
I  told  Papa  about  the  places  I'd  seen,  and  the 
theatre  I  went  to  last  night,  and  about  Sir  Lionel 
having  been  shut  out  one  night,  and  about  his  hav- 
ing gone  away  on  business  till  to-morrow. 

And  to  Mama  I  gave  a  long  description  of  the 
races,  and  of  what  the  people  wore ;  and  I  told  her 
all  about  the  things  Sir  Lionel  sent  home  for  me 
to-day.  Those  things  will  interest  her  more  than 
they  do  me,  though  even  she,  I  think,  who  is  so  very 
fond  of  pretty  things,  will  agree  with  me  that  it  is 
rather  absurd  to  wear  things  that  look  as  if  a  good 
pull  would  tear  them  into  shreds. 

74 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

There  are  some  silk  stockings  so  fine  you  can  see 
through  them,  as  if  they  were  muslin,  with  the 
fronts  delicately  embroidered  and  set  with  tiny  dia- 
monds and  little  pearls.  I  laughed  at  the  idea  of 
wearing  them,  and  I  think  even  Mama  will  too ! 


PARIS,  March  i2th. 

WHEN  Sir  Lionel  came  back  this  morning,  having 
been  away  since  yesterday  morning  on  business,  I 
made  a  most  unpleasant  discovery.  I  thanked  him 
for  his  presents,  and  when  he  said,  "What  pres- 
ents?" I  showed  him  one  of  the  boxes  with  the 
frillies  and  things.  He  turned  quite  a  deep  yellow 
colour,  and  for  the  moment  I  didn't  know  what  to 
think.  It  was  as  if  he  had  never  heard  of  the  things. 
And  then  he  laughed,  and  said  quickly  he  was  glad 
I  liked  them,  and  then  he  went  out  of  the  room. 

And  a  horrid  idea  came  into  my  head,  and  I 
looked  through  the  boxes  again,  and  I  found,  as 
I  had  half  thought  I  should  do,  one  of  his  visiting 
cards  with  some  words  scribbled  on  it  in  pencil : 

"A  la  belle  deesse  Diane,  de  la  part  du  plus  hum- 
ble de  ses  adorateurs." 

I  wished  I  had  never  learned  French ! 

I  threw  the  card  into  the  box  again  and  shut  it 
76 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

up,  and  sat  down  trembling  all  over,  wondering 
what  I  should  do. 

Of  course  I  couldn't  tell  him  that  I  knew,  now, 
that  the  things  were  not  intended  for  me,  but  for 
the  actress  Mademoiselle  D M . 

And  suddenly  I  knew  that  I  had  misunderstood 
several  things;  and  that  when  Sir  Lionel  couldn't 
get  into  the  hotel  at  night  it  was  because  he  hadn't 
tried  to;  and  that  when  he  went  away  "on  business," 
it  was  the  business  of  amusing  himself  that  occupied 
him. 

It  was  so  deeply  humiliating  to  discover  this,  to 
know  that  all  my  efforts  to  please  him,  and  to  be 
amiable  and  submissive,  had  been  thrown  away, 
since  I  had  failed  to  make  him  even  respect  me, 
that  I  felt  I  could  have  died  of  shame. 

I  forgot  even  that  I  hated  him  and  feared  him; 
I  could  feel  only  the  cruelty  of  treating  me  so. 

Of  course  I  had  not  been  supposed  to  know  any- 
thing, but  the  least  thought  would  have  told  him 
that  I  must  find  out,  especially  when  he  was  not 
even  careful  to  give  the  right  address  for  his  pres- 
ents to  be  sent  to. 

He  had  got  me  a  lace-trimmed  morning  gown 
at  the  same  shop  where  he  ordered  the  things  for 

37 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Mademoiselle  D M ,  and  he  had  not  taken 

the  trouble  necessary  to  prevent  the  mistake  the 
shop-people  had  made  in  sending  the  actress's  things 
to  me! 

What  was  I  to  do?  Should  I  say  I  was  ill,  and 
ask  to  be  sent  home  ? 

This  seemed  the  best  thing  to  be  done,  but  yet 
I  dreaded  to  have  to  do  it.  For  if  I  go  home  I 
must  tell  Papa  and  Mama  everything;  and  there 
will  be  all  the  gossip  and  scandal.  And  how  can  I 
tell  Sir  Lionel  I  am  ill,  when  he  knows  I  am  not? 

Of  course,  to  tell  him  what  I  know  is  not  to  be 
thought  of.  If  I  liked  him,  I  could  do  it.  I  could 
beg  or  I  could  reproach.  But  as  it  is  I  couldn't. 
Oh,  I  couldn't  say  a  word  about  it.  I  should  suf- 
focate if  I  tried  to  speak  of  it.  And  besides,  the 
man  who  could  behave  like  this  to  a  girl  he  has 
just  married  would  be  brutal  about  it,  I  feel  sure. 

The  whole  thing  is  so  horrible,  to  have  taken  me 
away  from  my  people  just  to  treat  me  like  this,  that 
I  am  almost  stunned  by  it.  I  can't  say  I  dislike 
him  more  than  I  did  before,  because  that  was 
scarcely  possible  in  one  way ;  but  I  am  more  afraid 
of  him  than  I  was.  He  seems  to  be  so  much  worse 
than  I  had  believed  possible.  Surely  it  was  not 

78 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

worth  while  to  marry  me  at  all,  when  he  can't  treat 
me  properly  during  the  first  fortnight  of  my  mar- 
ried life? 

Is  it  my  fault  at  all?  I  don't  think  so.  It's  true 
I  might  have  got  a  greater  hold  upon  him  if  I  had 
loved  him;  but  how  was  that  possible?  I  was  flung 
into  marriage,  without  being  allowed  to  know  what 
I  was  doing;  and  of  course  I  realise  that  that  was 
the  only  way  it  could  have  been  done,  and  of  course 
Papa  and  Mama  had  no  idea  how  wicked  he  was. 

And  yet,  didn't  they  know?  What  were  those 
stories  I  heard  about,  that  no  one  would  tell  me? 

But  surely  they  might  have  known,  or  guessed, 
how  it  was  likely  to  end !  Surely  they  couldn't  sup- 
pose I  should  ever  care  for  such  a  man !  I  did  mean 
to  try ;  I  meant  to  try  hard :  and  I  was  so  submis- 
sive and  gentle  that  I  thought  he  would  help  me  to 
like  him,  and  that  perhaps,  presently,  the  feelings  of 
disgust  I  can't  help  would  die  down  and  grow  into 
gratitude  for  all  the  things  he  gave  me. 

But  I  see  now  that  it  could  never  have  happened 
like  that.  I  was  trying  to  live  in  a  fairy-tale  again, 
and  it  broke  down. 

Now  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  have  been  wondering  all 
day  long. 

79 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

When  Sir  Lionel  came  back  to  the  rooms,  I  had 
bathed  my  eyes  and  tried  to  look  as  if  nothing  had 
happened;  and  he  brought  up  a  little  dog  to  show 
me,  one  that  a  man  had  brought  to  the  hotel  to  try 
to  sell. 

I  hadn't  yet  made  up  my  mind  what  to  do  or  what 
to  say,  so  I  behaved  just  as  usual,  which  was  per- 
haps the  best  thing. 

And  then  this  evening,  at  dinner,  I  summoned 
up  courage  to  ask  when  we  were  going  to  leave 

Paris. 

• 

"Leave  Paris?  Don't  you  like  it,  then?"  he  asked 
quickly. 

My  voice  was  trembling  very  much  as  I  said  I 
was  tired  of  it,  and  I  wanted  to  go  on  at  once.  I 
saw  by  the  expression  of  his  face  that  he  knew  I 
guessed  something,  and  he  said  very  dryly  that  he 
should  be  detained  in  Paris  on  business  for  two 
or  three  days  more;  but  that,  if  I  preferred,  I  could 
go  on  to  Nice  by  myself. 

I  was  dismayed,  for  how  could  I  take  a  journey 
all  by  myself  to  a  place  where  I  knew  no  one? 

Then  I  think  he  suddenly  felt  sorry  for  me,  for 
I  was  trying  hard  to  be  very  brave;  and  he  came 
round  to  me  where  I  sat  at  the  table,  and  put  his 

80 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

hand  on  my  shoulder,  and  told  me  that  he  had 
seemed  to  neglect  me,  and  that  he  was  sorry.  But 
that  his  business  should  not  make  him  inconsiderate 
any  more. 

And  then  the  strangest  thing  happened  that  has 
ever  come  into  my  life.  I  had  hated  him  till  then, 
ever  since  my  marriage,  and  I  had  never  really 
liked  him  before. 

But  if,  at  that  moment,  he  had  taken  me  in  the 
right  way,  if  he  had  said,  nicely,  that  he  was  sorry 
for  the  way  he  had  treated  me,  if  without  exactly 
confessing,  he  had  let  me  see  that  he  knew  he  had 
done  what  wasn't  right,  but  that  he  was  really 
ashamed  and  anxious  to  do  the  right  thing  for  the 
future,  I  should  not  only  have  forgiven  him,  but 
I  should  have  liked  him  better,  ever  so  much  bet- 
ter than  I  had  ever  done  before. 

For  just  at  that  moment  he  seemed  human,  he 
seemed  to  make  me  understand  that  he  could  feel 
things  that  I  could  feel ;  there  just  seemed  to  have 
come  a  point  where  we  might  have  understood  each 
other,  even  if  that  understanding  had  not  made  us 
think  very  well  of  each  other. 

And  just  for  the  moment  I  seemed  to  see  that, 
after  all,  I  must  be  rather  a  bore  to  him  with  my 

81 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

ignorance  and  my  dullness,  and  that  there  might  be 
a  great  temptation  for  a  man  who  had  been  self- 
indulgent  all  his  life,  in  coming  in  contact  again 
with  brilliant  women  who  had  known  him  before, 
and  who  knew  how  to  amuse  him  and  to  interest 
him  as  I  could  not  do. 

But,  as  it  was,  I  could  see  that  all  he  wanted  was 
to  prevent  my  bursting  into  tears  and  making  a 
scene,  and  that  he  did  not  mean  to  go  away  from 
Paris,  as  he  ought  to  have  done  when  I  wished  it. 

And  so  the  little  flicker  of  deeper  feeling  that 
had  suddenly  come  into  my  heart  died  away  again, 
and  he  went  out  to  smoke  his  cigar,  and  I  am  left 
here  to  write  this  down,  and  to  wonder,  and  won- 
der how  it  will  all  end! 


82 


PARIS,  March  i6th. 

FOR  two  days  Sir  Lionel  was  very  nice,  and  I  almost 
began  to  think  the  worst  was  over.  He  took  me 
to  the  Louvre,  where  I  saw  a  great  many  things  I 
had  heard  about  from  Miss  Trood,  and  I  enjoyed 
myself,  though  I  could  see  he  was  bored. 

And  then  we  had  a  beautiful  drive  in  a  motor- 
car for  miles  and  miles  through  the  country  round 
Paris,  and  finished  up  with  the  Opera  in  the  eve- 
ning. 

I  got  a  queer  little  letter  from  Mama,  by  which 
I  saw  that  she  was  rather  frightened.  She  under- 
lined lots  of  words,  and  told  me  she  was  very  glad 
Sir  Lionel  was  so  kind  to  me,  and  that  I  was  doing 
my  best  to  be  amiable.  And  she  said  that  I  was  to 
write  to  her  often,  and  to  tell  her  everything,  and 
that  I  was  especially  to  tell  Sir  Lionel  that  she  hoped 
he  would  remember  the  deep  and  perfect  confidence 
she  felt  in  him,  and  in  his  kindness  to  me. 

83 


And  she  put,  as  usual,  a  postscript  to  her  letter, 
in  which  she  said  that  Papa  was  going  to  write  to  Sir 
Lionel. 

Unluckily,  I  could  see  that  Sir  Lionel  was  gradu- 
ally getting  bored  again,  and  last  night  he  went 
away  on  business  again,  and  was  away  all  night. 

And  the  hopelessness  of  it  all,  and  the  horror  of 
it,  and  the  knowledge  that  I  couldn't  put  things 
right  made  me  cry  my  eyes  out  this  morning.  I 
felt  so  lonely,  so  miserable,  and  so  disgusted,  as 
much  with  myself  as  with  Papa  and  Mama  and  Sir 
Lionel,  that  I  felt  as  if  I  couldn't  go  on  living  un- 
less I  could  find  some  way  out  of  it. 

It  isn't  even  as  if  I  had  a  nice  maid  with  me.  I 
can't  bear  Hanway,  and  I  don't  like  the  way  she 
giggles  and  titters  with  Sir  Lionel. 

She  is  affected  too,  and  so  vain  that  she  is  always 
looking  at  herself  in  the  glass.  As  it  was  Sir  Lionel 
who  engaged  her  (which  I  certainly  should  not 
have  done,  for  I  don't  like  her),  I  can  see  that  she 
thinks  a  great  deal  more  of  pleasing  him  than 
of  pleasing  me.  She  dresses  beautifully,  quietly 
and  with  good  taste,  and  the  consequence  is  she 
gets  addressed  as  "miladi,"  which  she  likes  but  I 
don't. 

She  has  only  one  good  point,  and  that  is  that  she 
84 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

neglects  her  duties.  I  could  not  bear  to  have  a  maid 
I  don't  like  always  about  me.  But  Hanway  leaves 
me  to  get  out  most  of  my  things  myself,  and  when 
I  want  her  it  is  generally  Jones  who  has  to  go  and 
find  her  for  me. 

I  like  Jones.  He  is  always  civil  and  bright,  and 
ready  and  willing  to  do  anything  for  me.  Sir  Lionel 
says  he  is  a  thief  and  a  liar,  but  I  sometimes  won- 
der whether  a  servant  who  was  absolutely  truthful 
would  suit  him  any  better ! 

And  as  for  honesty,  money-lenders  may  be  hon- 
est, I  suppose,  but  nobody  talks  as  if  they  thought 
them  so! 

I  wonder  who  Sir  Lionel  lends  money  to !  It  must 
be  to  people  who  can  pay  very  handsomely  for  his 
help,  I  should  think,  for  I  never  understood  before 
what  being  rich  was  like. 

It  is  very  different  indeed  from  being  like  Papa 
and  Mama,  supposed  to  be  rich,  with  so  many  ex- 
penses and  claims  that  you  really  never  have  any 
money  at  all,  and  are  always  being  worried  for  want 
of  it. 

Hanway  never  came  near  me  at  all  this  morn- 
ing, for  which  I  was  thankful,  as  I  was  able  to  have 
my  cry  undisturbed.  I  was  a  long  time  dressing, 

85 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

and  it  was  ten  o'clock  before  I  went  into  the  sitting- 
room. 

The  sun  was  streaming  in  brightly  through  the 
windows,  and  when  I  saw  a  man  standing  in  one 
of  them  bowing  to  me,  I  had  no  idea  who  it  was. 

Then  he  said : 

"Don't  you  remember  me,  Lady  Eberhard?" 

And  then  he  came  out  of  the  glare,  so  that  I 
could  see  his  face,  and  I  felt  that  my  heart  leapt  up, 
and  I  could  almost  have  thrown  my  arms  about  him 
and  kissed  him! 

Of  course  I  couldn't  really,  but  that  was  how  I 
felt — just  because  I  was  face  to  face  with  some- 
body I  knew! 

And  yet  it  was  only  Papa's  lawyer,  Mr.  Calstock, 
whom  I  had  only  seen  twice  before — the  first  time 
down  at  Fouroaks,  when  he  came  with  Papa  and 
Sir  Lionel,  and  then  once  more  at  Brook  Street, 
when  he  came  just  before  the  wedding  to  see  Papa 
about  some  business,  connected,  I  think,  with  mar-^ 
riage  settlements  or  something  horrid  of  that  kind. 
I  remember  that  Sir  Lionel  had  made  an  appoint- 
ment which  he  did  not  keep,  and  that  Papa  and  Mr. 
Calstock  were  both  angry  about  it. 

For  the  first  moment  I  was  only  delighted,  as  I 
86 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

held  out  my  hand  and  he  came  forward  and  took  it. 
But  the  next  my  feelings  had  changed  altogether. 
For  that  strange  face  of  his,  that  can  express  so 
much,  was  full  of  grave  kindness,  and  pity  too ;  and 
on  a  sudden  I  remembered  that  I  had  been  crying 
and  that  my  face  must  show  it,  and  I  was  ashamed 
and  disturbed,  so  that  the  tears  came  to  my  eyes 
again. 

This  happened  before  he  had  let  go  my  hand,  and 
then,  just  for  a  moment,  I  know  that  my  fingers 
seemed  to  tighten  round  his,  as  if  I  had  found  a 
friend  at  last  in  my  wretchedness  and  did  not  want 
to  let  him  go. 

Of  course  I  recovered  myself  the  next  minute, 
and  I  explained  that  seeing  a  friend  from  England 
unexpectedly  was  such  a  great  surprise  and  pleas- 
ure that  it  quite  overwhelmed  me. 

Then  he  looked  at  me  gravely  again.  I  wonder 
how  old  he  is !  Papa  always  calls  him  "Young  Cal- 
stock,"  and  I  know  that  his  father  is  still  alive  and 
still  in  the  business;  so  that  my  Mr.  Calstock — I 
can't  help  calling  him  that,  because  he  is  so  nice  to 
me — my  Mr.  Calstock  can't  be  very  old!  I  don't 
think  I  can  tell  men's  ages.  With  women  it  is 
easier:  while  they  only  wash  their  faces  they  are 

87 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

young;  when  they  use  powder  and  paint  they  are 
middle-aged;  and  when  they  are  either  wrinkled  or 
enamelled  they  are  old. 

Mr.  Calstock  has  lines  in  his  face,  lines  that  look 
very  deep  and  hard  when  he  is  not  talking,  but  that 
go  away  altogether  when  he  talks  to  me.  And  he 
has  the  kindest  eyes  I  ever  saw,  just  a  little  shaded 
by  the  glasses  he  wears.  Of  course  he  must  be 
short-sighted,  for  he  is  not  old  enough  to  wear  them 
for  any  other  reason. 

Perhaps  he  is  about  thirty?  I'm  quite  sure  he 
can't  be  anywhere  near  forty.  I  don't  think  people 
would  call  him  handsome,  except  me,  and  I  think 
him  so  because  he  is  so  nice  to  me;  so  grave,  and 
even  sometimes  rather  stern,  but  yet  so  kind  that 
he  makes  me  feel  he  would  be  the  very  person  I 
should  go  to  in  any  difficulty. 

I  am  not  even  quite  sure  whether  he  is  tall,  or 
only  about  the  middle  height.  I  know  he  is  dark, 
and  quiet  in  manner. 

I  do  like  him  so  much  that  to  know  he  is  in  the 
world  makes  me  feel  more  comfortable.  I  mean 
that,  if  ever  things  were  to  get  dreadfully,  unbear- 
ably hard,  it  would  be  easy  to  go  straight  to  him 
and  to  tell  him  everything,  much,  much  easier  than 

88 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

to  tell  everything  to  Papa  or  Mama,  or  indeed  any- 
body. 

That  sounds  as  if  he  were  quite  the  ideal  of  what 
a  lawyer  ought  to  be,  or  a  doctor,  or  a  clergyman — 
someone  you  can  put  your  trust  in. 

And  I  believe  he  is. 

Oh,  it  is  so  beautiful,  when  you  have  been  feel- 
ing as  if  there  were  nobody  in  the  world  you  could 
confide  in,  to  meet  some  one  who  inspires  you  with 
the  feeling  I  have  for  him! 

When  I  told  him  how  pleased  I  was  to  see  him 
he  did  not  smirk,  or  say  he  felt  flattered,  or  any- 
thing silly  like  that,  but  instead  he  looked  me  full 
in  the  face,  gravely  and  sternly  too,  though  I  knew 
that  the  sternness  was  not  meant  for  me. 

And  I  blushed  and  felt  a  little  ashamed,  for 
the  very  pleasure  I  felt  in  meeting  him,  and 
the  way  in  which  I  showed  it,  were  of  course 
a  confession. 

He  said  something  conventional,  looking  at  me 
and  frowning  all  the  time,  and  then  I  asked  him 
whether  he  was  staying  in  Paris. 

"Oh,  no,"  he  said;  "I  am  only  here  on  business 
with  Sir  Lionel.  The  Earl  sent  me." 

"Papa?" 

89 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Yes.  As  soon  as  I  have  seen  Sir  Lionel  I  shall 
take  the  next  train  back  and  return  to  London." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry!" 

"I  suppose  there  is  nothing  I  can  do  for  you  in 
London?" 

I  shook  my  head. 

"No,"  I  said.  "Only  give  Papa  my  love.  I  sup- 
pose you  will  see  him  at  once?" 

"Yes." 

We  didn't  say  anything  else  for  a  minute,  and 
then  I  said  quickly: 

"You  won't  tell  him  anything  about  me  to — to 
worry  him,  will  you?" 

Mr.  Calstock  frowned. 

"I'm  afraid  I  shall  not  be  able  to  tell  him  that  you 
are  looking  as  well  as  you  ought  to  look,"  he  said. 

"Well,  you  see  me  at  a  rather  unfortunate  mo- 
ment," I  explained.  "I  have  a  headache  this  morn- 
ing. I  don't  think  Paris  suits  me." 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  he  said.  "You  should  ask  Sir 
Lionel  to  take  you  away." 

I  was  afraid  of  betraying  myself  again,  and  in- 
deed I  believe  I  did  in  spite  of  all  I  could  do. 

"He  has  business  to  attend  to  which  keeps  him 
here,"  I  said.  And  then  I  remembered  that  I  had 

90 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

made  a  mistake,  for  if  business  had  kept  him  here, 
he  would  have  been  at  the  hotel  that  morning.  So 
I  hurried  blundering  on:  "I  mean,  business  keeps 
him  in  France." 

I  felt  so  mortified  to  see  that  Mr.  Calstock  guessed 
or  knew  all  about  it,  that  I  turned  away  and  could 
not  help  beginning  to  cry  again.  It  was  so  dread- 
ful, so  humiliating,  to  be  caught  like  that !  But  he 
was  kind  enough  to  pretend  that  it  was  all  right. 

"Yes,  of  course,"  he  said.  "But  it  is  hard  upon 
you  to  be  left  by  yourself  so  much.  I  think  I  shall 
ask  Lord  Rushbury  to  come  and  see  you.  You 
would  like  that,  wouldn't  you?" 

My  poor  little  pretence  of  being  calm  and  happy 
flew  away  when  he  said  that.  I  caught  at  the  idea, 
in  fact  I  jumped  at  it. 

"Oh,  if  you  could  make  him  come!"  I  said,  clasp- 
ing my  hands.  But  then  I  remembered,  and  I 
laughed  a  little.  I  knew  now  that  I  was  betraying 
myself,  but  I  felt  that  it  really  didn't  so  much  mat- 
ter, since  he  was  a  man,  and  a  lawyer,  and  he  must 
know  all  about  Sir  Lionel,  and  guess  at  the  sort  of 
thing  that  had  happened.  Besides,  he  had  to  report 
to  Papa,  and  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  know 
the  truth.  "Just  for  a  day!  I — I  should  be  so 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

glad !"  And  then  I  broke  off  and  laughed  and  shook 
my  head :  "But  he  won't  come,"  I  said. 

And  glancing  quickly  at  Mr.  Calstock,  I  saw  that 
he  agreed  with  me. 

"Well,  I  shall  tell  him  he  ought  to,"  he  said  in 
quite  a  sharp  tone. 

But  I  didn't  mind  the  sharpness,  for  I  knew  it  was 
not  intended  for  me.  And  then,  feeling  suddenly 
that  there  was  no  use  in  trying  to  keep  things  from 
him,  I  said  in  a  whisper : 

"It  wouldn't  be  any  use.  It  might  make  things 
worse  instead  of  better." 

Mr.  Calstock  did  not  make  any  answer.  He  be- 
gan to  walk  up  and  down  the  room,  past  the  two 
windows,  with  his  hands  behind  him,  bending  his 
head  and  looking  over  his  glasses  on  the  carpet. 
His  lips  were  very  tightly  pressed  together,  and  he 
frowned  and  looked  so  stern  that,  if  I  had  not  known 
him  and  felt  so  much  confidence  in  him,  I  should 
have  felt  even  more  afraid  of  him  than  I  do  of  Sir 
Lionel. 

Quite  suddenly  he  stopped  short  almost  in  the 
middle  of  the  room.  I  was  sitting  upright  in  an  arm- 
chair between  the  fireplace  and  the  door  that  led 
into  the  bedroom,  so  that  he  could  see  me  better 

92 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

than  I  him,  for  his  back  was  to  the  light  and  I  sat 
facing  it. 

"It's  a  bad  business,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

I  kept  back  the  tears,  but  I  had  to  strangle  a  sob. 
Then  he  drew  himself  up  and  looked  out  at  the  bal- 
cony and  began  to  drum  softly  on  the  table. 

"But  we  must  make  the  best  of  it,"  he  went  on. 
"You  are  a  very  brave  lady,  and  we  must  see  that 
your  future,  at  least,  is  assured." 

I  jumped  up,  seized  with  a  sudden  impulse,  and 
leaning  upon  the  table  at  the  other  side  of  it,  and 
looking  at  him  over  the  basket  of  flowers  that  was 
on  it,  I  said : 

"What  did  he  marry  me  for,  Mr.  Calstock?" 

In  the  midst  of  his  gravity  and  sternness,  he 
looked  at  me  and  smiled,  as  if  I  had  said  something 
amusing. 

"I  don't  think  any  one  would  find  a  difficulty  in 
giving  a  reason  for  a  man's  wishing  to  marry  you, 
Lady  Eberhard,"  he  said,  so  quietly  that,  although 
I  knew  what  he  meant,  it  scarcely  sounded  like  the 
flattering  speech  it  was. 

"I  mean,"  I  said,  "I  should  have  thought  quite  a 
different  type  of  woman  would  have  suited  him  bet- 
ter— a  woman  who  could  talk  and  say  amusing 

93 


THE  DIARY-  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

things,  and  dress  well,  and— oh,  quite  a  different 
person  altogether  from  me.  I  don't  mean,"  I  went 
on  quickly,  "that  he  is  not  kind  to  me,  and  very, 
very  generous.  He  is.  Still,  I  think  he  must  find  me 
boring  sometimes." 

Mr.  Calstock  looked  rather  astonished. 

"You  are  very  modest  and  very  indulgent,"  he 
said. 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "but " 

Then  I  stopped  short.  I  felt  that  I  was  getting 
much  too  confidential,  and  that  I  must  not  say  what 
was  in  my  mind,  that  I  was  more  indulgent  than  I 
could  possibly  have  been  if  I  had  liked  Sir  Lionel 
better. 

I  think  he  guessed  my  difficulty,  or  at  any  rate 
he  wished  to  prevent  my  feeling  uncomfortable 
when  I  stopped. 

"However,"  he  said,  "you  must  be  protected.  I 
know  that  Sir  Lionel  would  be  very  sorry  to  have 
any  sort  of  open  quarrel  with  Lord  Rushbury." 

"Quarrel!  Oh,  no,  there  must  be  no  quarrel,"  I 
said.  "I  hope  that  nothing  in  my  letters  made  Papa 
think  it  necessary  to  interfere." 

Mr.  Calstock  shook  his  head. 

"No,  no,"  he  said.  "It  was  no  fault  of  yours. 
94 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Sir  Lionel  has  not  completed  the  settlements  he 
promised  to  make,  that's  all." 

I  seized  the  situation  at  once,  and  I  said  quickly : 
"I  hope  you  haven't  come  to  insist  on  his  doing 
that?  I  would  much  rather  it  were  left,  indeed.  I 
have  nothing  to  complain  of  on  the  score  of  want 
of  generosity." 

"You  haven't  now,  but  you  may  have,"  said  the 
lawyer.  "I  think  you  must  understand  that,  little 
as  you  know  about  such  things,  Lady  Eberhard." 

I  said  nothing,  for  I  could  see  what  he  was  think- 
ing, that  if  my  hold  upon  Sir  Lionel  was  so  weak 
already,  the  time  would  not  be  long  in  coming  when 
I  should  have  no  hold  at  all. 

But  this  view  made  no  difference  to  me.  I  hated 
the  thought  of  forcing  a  man  to  provide  for  me, 
especially  as  I  knew  he  had  paid  sums  of  money  on 
my  account.  I  did  not  wish  to  hear  anything  about 
this,  but  I  knew  that,  if  Sir  Lionel  were  coerced,  I 
should  very  soon  have  to  hear  about  it. 

"I  would  much  rather  it  were  left  to  him,"  I  said 
earnestly. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Calstock,  "y°u  have  no  choice, 
and  I  have  none  either.  I  am  sent  here  on  a  cer- 
tain errand,  and  I  have  to  fulfil  it;  and  I  must  add 

95 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

that,  in  my  opinion,  the  errand  is  a  very  proper  one. 
Sir  Lionel  has  been  anxious  to  improve  his  social 
position  by  marriage  into  the  aristocracy,  and  now 
that  he  has  succeeded,  the  least  he  can  do  is  to  fulfil 
a  promise  which  only  covers  the  usual  ground  of 
such  affairs." 

I  said  nothing.  I  was  beginning  to  understand 
better  just  what  had  happened  in  the  matter  of  my 
wretched  marriage.  Sir  Lionel,  anxious  to  marry 
a  titled  wife — that  was  what  it  came  to — had  met 
me  at  a  time  when  he  knew  poor  Papa  was  in  a  very 
tight  place,  and  had  made  Papa's  consent  a  condi- 
tion of  letting  him  have  the  help  he  wanted.  Of 
course  it  was  very  wrong  of  Papa  to  give  way,  but 
I  knew  what  the  temptation  must  have  been,  and 
after  all,  it  was  not  likely  that  he  or  any  one  else 
would  have  expected  Sir  Lionel  to  treat  me  badly 
so  soon. 

As  I  realised  all  this,  sitting  quite  quietly,  with 
my  hands  on  the  arms  of  my  chair,  I  suddenly  felt 
a  mist  before  my  eyes,  and  a  tear  trickled  down  my 
cheek. 

I  was  horribly  ashamed  of  this,  for  Mr.  Calstock, 
standing  with  his  back  to  the  light,  could  see  me, 
and  I  had  borne  up  pretty  well  till  then.  I  suppose 

96 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  must  have  looked  very,  very  miserable,  for  his 
voice,  when  he  next  spoke,  was  as  tender  and  kind 
as  if  he  had  been  my  father  and  mother  and  pld 
Kelly  rolled  into  one. 

"Poor  child,  poor  child!"  he  said  gently. 

He  was  about  two  yards  away,  and  I  stretched 
out  my  hand  impulsively.  He  came  with  one  stride 
near  enough  to  take  my  hand,  and  he  lifted  it  to 
his  lips  and  kissed  it. 

I  could  have  thanked  him.  For  there  was  a  kind- 
ness, a  tenderness,  a  friendliness  in  his  voice  and 
manner  which  showed  me  that  I  could  trust  him. 

He  had  scarcely  let  go  my  hand  when  the  door 
from  the  corridor  opened  and  Sir  Lionel  came  in. 

Mr.  Calstock  was  standing  bolt  upright,  quite  two 
yards  away  from  me,  with  his  glasses  on,  his  hands 
behind  him,  looking  the  dry  lawyer  from  top  to  toe. 

I  was  sitting  with  the  tears  still  wet  on  my  face, 
looking,  I  suppose,  very  much  scared. 

Sir  Lionel  came  in  whistling,  with  a  large  bunch 
of  beautiful  roses  in  his  hand.  He  stopped  short 
and  stared  angrily  at  Mr.  Calstock. 

"Hallo!"  he  said  very  gruffly. 

Mr.  Calstock  bowed. 

"You  will  have  been  expecting  me,  Sir  Lionel," 
97 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

he  said.     "Lord  Rushbury  wrote  to  you  yesterday 
announcing  my  visit." 

Sir  Lionel  turned,  without  a  word,  frowning,  to 
the  side-table  where  his  letters  were  always  put. 
There  was  a  great  pile  of  them,  to  be  dealt  with  by 
and  by  with  the  help  of  his  secretary. 

"I  dare  say  the  letter  is  here,"  he  said  shortly, 
almost  rudely.  "But  I've  not  seen  it.  I've  been 
called  away  from  Paris  on  business,  and  I've  only 
just  got  back.  What  do  you  want?" 

Mr.  Calstock  did  not  answer.  I  was  glad,  for  I 
felt  myself  taking  sides  with  him  against  Sir  Lionel 
in  the  most  curious  way,  admiring  his  quiet  dignity, 
in  the  face  of  the  rudeness  with  which  he  was  being 
treated. 

I  got  up  from  my  chair  and  went  towards  the  door 
of  the  bedroom.  Sir  Lionel  followed  me,  with  a 
sort  of  half-muttered  excuse  to  Mr.  Calstock,  and, 
opening  the  door  for  me,  gave  me  the  roses,  kissing 
me  as  he  did  so.  I  was  quite  quiet,  quite  submis- 
sive, as  usual,  but  I  felt  that  I  hated  him  for  doing 
it.  It  seemed  like  a  sort  of  challenge  to  the  lawyer, 
who  came  as  Papa's  messenger,  a  daring  proof  that 
we  were  on  perfectly  good  terms,  and  that  we  did 
not  want  any  interference. 

98 


THE  DIARY.  OF.  MY  HONEYMOON 

Then  he  let  me  go  out  of  the  sitting-room,  and  I 
sat  down,  trembling,  far  enough  away  from  the  door 
not  to  hear  what  they  said. 

They  talked  together  in  very  subdued  tones,  and 
I  heard  the  rustling  of  papers  of  some  kind.  Pres- 
ently Sir  Lionel's  voice  grew  louder,  and  showed 
that  he  was  angry.  Then  I  could  hear  Mr.  Calstock 
speaking  in  a  very  hard,  dry,  and  decisive  tone,  and 
then  suddenly  Sir  Lionel  raised  his  voice  and  almost 
shouted : 

"Look  here!  I  won't  have  any  d d  lawyer 

daring  to  dictate  to  me!" 

I  felt  as  if  I  could  scarcely  breathe,  for  I  knew 
that  Mr.  Calstock  had  been,  must  have  been  re- 
monstrating with  him  on  the  way  he  was  treating 
me.  Though  I  thought  perhaps  it  would  make  no 
difference,  or  even  that  it  might  make  Sir  Lionel 
more  unkind  to  me,  I  was  so  glad.  It  was  like  a 
beautiful  rush  of  fresh,  warm  air  to  feel  that  at  last 
there  was  a  real  friend  at  work  for  me! 

And  then  I  could  have  cried  to  think  that  it  was 
a  stranger,  a  man  who  had  scarcely  seen  me  before, 
who  was  taking  my  part,  and  trying  to  make  things 
better  for  me,  and  not  my  own  people,  my  own 
parents ! 

99 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Oh,  Papa!    Oh,  Mama! 

After  that  the  voices  died  down  again,  and  I 
could  only  hear  the  murmur  of  the  talk  as  before. 
But  I  knew  that  Sir  Lionel  was  angry,  and  I  knew 
also  that  Mr.  Calstock  was  standing  his  ground. 

And  presently  the  door  shut  and  there  was  silence, 
and  I  knew  that  the  interview  was  over. 

Would  it  make  any  difference?  I  wondered. 

But  I  didn't  have  to  wonder  very  long! 

The  dejeuner  had  been  kept  back  for  this  con- 
sultation, or  discussion,  or  whatever  it  was,  and  by 
and  by  Sir  Lionel  opened  the  door,  and  very  sulkily 
called  me  into  the  sitting-room,  where  all  traces  of 
Mr.  Calstock  and  his  papers  had  disappeared. 

Sir  Lionel  was  sulky  and  disagreeable,  more  so, 
indeed,  than  he  had  ever  been  before  to  me.  I  was 
very  quiet,  and  as  he  said  nothing,  I  said  nothing 
either. 

He  flung  the  rolls  about,  and  spilt  the  coffee,  in  a 
way  which  would  have  made  me  laugh  if  I  had  not 
felt  sick  with  fear.  When  dejeuner  was  over,  and 
the  waiters  had  gone  away  and  the  table  was  cleared, 
he  stood  on  the  hearthrug  frowning,  and  looking  oh ! 
so  horribly  ugly  and  hateful,  and  he  said : 

"I  see  you've  been  complaining  to  your  people!" 

IOO 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  could  only  breathe  in  gasps,  but  I  shook  my 
head  and  said  that  I  had  not  complained.  He  looked 
at  me  with  a  scowl  as  if  he  did  not  believe  me. 

"What  did  you  say  to  them,  to  make  them  send 

this  d d  fellow  over  to  me?     This  Calstock? 

Sent  him  to  worry  me  about  settlements.  Want  to 
make  me  sign  a  will  they  got  me  to  make.  I  don't 
think  they'd  have  dared  to  worry  me  so  soon  if  you 
hadn't  set  them  on." 

I  was  aghast.  The  idea  of  my  wanting  Papa  or 
Mama  to  get  Sir  Lionel  to  make  wills  and  settle- 
ments was  too  absurd. 

"I  know  nothing  about  any  will  or  any  settle- 
ment," I  said  in  a  shaky  voice.  "I  never  heard  of 
them  till  to-day.  I'm  sure  Mr.  Calstock  can't  have 
told  you  that  I  had  anything  to  do  with  his 
coming !" 

He  scowled  at  me  still. 

"He  dared  to  blow  me  up  about  my  treatment  of 
you.  My  treatment!  Now  what  could  he  know 
of  my  treatment  if  you  hadn't  said  anything  about 
it?" 

I  stared  at  him,  rather  puzzled.  Certainly  Mr. 
Calstock  could  see  that  I  was  not  happy,  but  I  had 
not  said  so  in  my  letters  home. 

101 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"I  suppose  he  thought  it  strange  I  should  be  left 
alone  so  much,"  I  said.  "He  came  here  expecting 
to  find  you,  and  then  he  heard  that  you  had  been 
away,  and  that  it  was  not  the  first  time.  That  is  all 
I  can  suggest." 

"Business  has  to  be  attended  to,"  he  said  sulkily. 
"And  your  people  quite  see  that  when  it's  a  question 
of  their  own  business.  Here  is  the  will  I  was  ex- 
pected to  sign,  and  here's  a  draft  of  the  settlement 
I'm  called  upon  to  make.  You're  to  have  two  thou- 
sand a  year  to  make  ducks  and  drakes  of  without  in- 
terference. One  knows  what  that  would  mean : 
Papa  and  Mama  would  see  who  got  that.  And 
then  I'm  to  leave  you  the  same  income  uncondi- 
tionally, in  case  of  my  death  before  you.  Uncon- 
ditionally, mind.  Not  if  I  know  it.  I'm  not  going 
to  leave  money  to  be  squandered  by  another  hus- 
band. As  long  as  you  choose  to  remain  with  me, 
you  shall  have  everything  you  can  wish  for.  But 
I'll  not  be  dictated  to  by  anybody ;  I'll  not  sign  away 
my  income,  or  any  part  of  it,  at  the  dictation  of  a 
lot  of  beggarly,  poverty-stricken  lords  and  ladies 
who  were  only  too  glad  to  snatch  at  what  I  gave 
them,  and  to  leave  settlements  to  be  arranged  after- 
wards. By  Jove !  They  ran  after  me  like  a  lot  of 

1 02 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

famished  wolves,  stuck  to  me  like  leeches,  grasp- 
ing and  smiling  at  the  same  time.  Nothing  was 
good  enough  for  me  then.  Now  they've  spent  the 
money  I  threw  them,  they  want  more,  more,  and 
since  it's  too  late  to  get  it  direct,  they  think  they'll 
get  it  through  you.  But  they  won't,  they  won't. 
I'll  see  them  d d  first." 

I  felt  sick  with  horror  and  dismay.  He  had 
thrown  some  documents — I  don't  know  whether 
they  were  papers  or  parchments — but  they  were  big 
and  bulky — down  upon  the  table,  and  he  frowned 
at  me,  and  pointed  at  them,  inviting  or  rather  com- 
manding me  to  look  at  them. 

So  I  did.  I  went  up  to  the  table  in  such  a  stag- 
gering fashion  that  I  almost  fell  against  it,  and  I 
looked  down  at  the  things  and  saw  that  they  were 
both  prepared  for  him  to  sign,  with  the  place  left 
for  Sir  Lionel's  name.  , 

I  tried  to  read  a  few  words,  but  my  eyes  were 
too  dim,  and  besides,  I  knew  I  should  not  under- 
stand any  better  than  by  his  very  clear  explanation. 
But  I  bent  down  and  pretended  to  read  part  of  the 
documents,  just  to  give  myself  time  to  get  over  the 
awful  shock  of  hearing  him  speak  like  that  of  poor 
Papa  and  of  Mama. 

103 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

It  wasn't  very  new,  all  that  he  told  me  in  that 
brutal  way;  of  course  I  knew  before  that  he  had 
advanced  them  money,  that  they  were  very  glad  to 
have  it,  and  that  they  married  me  to  him  because 
he  was  rich.  But  to  hear  it  all  like  that,  to  have  it 
thrown  at  me  so  rudely,  so  plainly,  was  dreadful. 

At  last  I  said,  very  quietly: 

"Was  it  to  ask  you  to  sign  these  things  that  Mr. 
Cal stock  came?" 

"Yes.     However,  he  didn't  get  me  to." 

"You  had  promised  to  sign  them,  I  suppose,  be- 
fore you  married  me?" 

I  did  not  think,  as  I  said  this,  how  biting  it 
sounded.  Sir  Lionel  looked  at  me  quite  savagely. 

"I  may  have  done,  but  I  don't  choose  to  be  driven 
into  keeping  my  promises.  It  ought  to  be  enough 
that  I  have  promised,  and  it  should  be  left  to  my 
honour  to  keep  my  word." 

"Yes,  of  course." 

Sir  Lionel  waved  his  right  hand  contemptuously 
in  the  direction  of  the  papers  on  the  table. 

"Instead  of  that,  I  am  to  be  driven.  I  am  not  to 
be  trusted  to  provide  for  my  wife;  I  am  not  sup- 
posed to  know  how  Lady  Eberhard  should  be  main- 
tained. There  is  no  satisfying  you  and  your  people." 

104 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  had  been  leaning  upon  my  hands,  which  I  had 
placed  on  the  table,  as  I  bent  down  to  look  at  the 
papers.  Now  I  stood  up. 

"You  know  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  wanting 
you  to  do  this?  You  know  that  I  know  nothing 
about  money,  and  that  I  have  never  asked  you  for 
any?" 

"Yes,  I  know  that,  of  course.  It's  your  peo- 
^\n  » 

I  interrupted  him : 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  have  to  say  this,  but  I  think 
you  must  have  known,  when  you  first  thought  of 
marrying  me,  that  you  would  have  a  great  deal  of 
expense  over  it." 

"Yes,  well,  I  suppose  so;  but " 

I  interrupted  him  again: 

"I  don't  think,  if  you  wanted  to  what  they  call 
'do  the  thing  cheaply,'  that  you  would  have  chosen 
to  marry  an  earl's  daughter." 

"Cheaply!    D nit!    I " 

I  was  growing  quite  firm  by  this  time,  knowing 
that  I  must  finish  what  I  had  to  say  now  that  I  had 
got  so  far.  I  cut  him  off  short  a  third  time. 

"You  have  never  given  me  any  reason  to  sup- 
pose that  you  begrudge  any  expense  for  your  wife." 

105 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"I  don't.  I  only  begrudge  money  given  to  out- 
siders." 

I  drew  my  breath  sharply  through  my  teeth. 
Though  I  refrained  from  openly  resenting  these  in- 
sults to  us  all,  they  made  me  hate  him  as  I  had  never 
hated  him  before.  And  yet  I  think  I  was  perhaps 
not  altogether  sorry — certainly  I  was  not  surprised 
— to  find  that  I  had  done  him  no  injustice  in  my 
dislike. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "whatever  you  have  to  give  in 
the  future  for  my  expenses,  you  shall  not  be  able 
to  say  that  I  tried  to  force  it  from  you.  These  pa- 
pers, you  say,  are  meant  to  oblige  you  to  give  what 
you  don't  want  to  give?" 

"I  didn't  say  that.  I  only  said  I  won't  be  forced 
to  give.  I  prefer  having  the  matter  left  to  my  gen- 
erosity. You  would  not  suffer  if  you  chose  to  trust 
me  instead  of  your  parents." 

"You  can't  expect  me  to  trust  anybody  more  than 
I  do  my  parents.  They  have  always  tried  to  do 
their  best  for  me " 

"And  for  themselves,"  put  in  Sir  Lionel. 

I  went  on  without  noticing  his  remark: 

"And  I  can't  feel  anything  but  pity  for  them  if 
sometimes  they  make  mistakes.  But  at  any  rate 

1 06 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

you  shan't  have  any  more  to  say  about  these  horrid 
papers.    They  only  concern  you  and  me,  don't  they?" 

"Well,  they  are  supposed  to,  but " 

"Well,  see  then.  There's  no  more  to  be  said  about 
them.  For  they  are  done  with  for  ever." 

With  the  documents  in  my  hands  I  went  up  to  the 
fire,  and  kneeling  down  beside  him,  held  them  down 
with  the  tongs  until  the  flame  caught  them. 

Sir  Lionel  had  had  to  make  way  for  me  on  the 
hearthrug,  and  he  now  looked  down  at  me  in  sur- 
prise, watching  me  in  silence  for  a  few  moments. 
Then  he  laughed  shortly. 

"Best  thing  you  could  do,"  he  said  in  a  grudg- 
ing, grumbling  tone,  by  which  I  think  he  meant  to 
intimate  that  I  was  an  artful  woman  doing  the  wisest 
thing  for  herself. 

But  I  think  he  did  feel  rather  ashamed,  for  though 
he  said  no  more,  and  let  me  go  away  without  trying 
to  detain  me,  he  has  been  much  nicer  to  me  since. 

But  I  can't  forget  this  morning,  and  the  things 
he  said  about  Papa  and  Mama,  and  though  I  have 
clone  my  best  all  day  long  to  talk  and  look  as  if 
nothing  had  happened,  I  do  really  feel  now  that 
nothing  he  can  ever  do  or  say  will  make  any  differ- 
ence. 

107 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

We  have  finished  dinner  and  he  has  gone  out, 
and  I  have  had  two  hours  to  write  my  letters  and 
my  diary.  I  feel  stupid  after  the  exciting  morning 
and  the  strain  of  the  afternoon. 

I  wonder  what  Mr.  Calstock  will  say  to  Papa! 
And  I  wonder  when  I  shall  see  him  again,  Mr.  Cal- 
stock I  mean !  Soon,  I  hope ! 


108 


PARIS,  March  iSth. 

I  AM  quite  sure  now  that  Sir  Lionel,  in  spite  of  his 
being  so  angry  with  Mr.  Calstock  and  saying  such 
horrid  things  about  them  all,  feels  that  he  has  be- 
haved badly,  and  wants,  in  his  way,  which  is  not  a 
very  nice  way,  to  make  amends. 

But  I  am  not  quite  so  submissive  now,  and  when- 
ever I  can  I  avoid  him. 

He  sent  me  in  a  lot  of  beautiful  flowers  and  sweets 
to-day,  and  brought  me  a  pretty  bracelet,  and  when 
he  had  put  it  on  my  arm  himself  he  said : 

"See  what  you  get  by  trusting  me !  You  will  be 
much  better  off  than  if  your  people  had  forced  me 
to  make  settlements  which  you  do  not  want." 

I  said  nothing  to  that,  but  just  thanked  him  for 
the  bracelet.  But  I  don't  like  it.  I  hate  jewellery. 
It  will  always  be  associated  in  my  mind  with  this 
horrid  marriage  of  mine,  and  besides,  it  makes  Sir 
Lionel  think  he  is  behaving  well  and  generously  to 

109 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

me,  when  really  it  is  only  to  please  himself  that  he 
makes  me  wear  these  things. 

To-night,  at  dinner,  I  wore  my  wedding  dia- 
monds, and  Sir  Lionel  stared  at  me  as  I  sat,  gloat- 
ing over  the  diamonds  and  me  in  a  way  that  made 
me  cold.  I  know  he  cannot  understand  how  I  hate 
them,  and  hate  wearing  them ;  and  when  he  told  me 
that  every  man  admires  a  woman  more  in  her  dia- 
monds than  at  any  other  time,  it  was  on  my  lips 
to  say  that  I  preferred  not  to  be  admired  like  that. 

This  life  is  hateful,  being  dressed  up  like  a  doll 
to  please  a  man  I  detest.  I  had  hoped  I  was  living 
down  my  feeling  that  I  am  degraded  by  it,  but  I 
am  not.  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  must  run  away. 

Unluckily,  I  have  nowhere  to  run  to,  and  no 
money. 

I  do  wish  Sir  Lionel  would  go  on  to  Monte  Carlo, 
and  that  I  could  win  some  money. 

I  got  a  letter  from  Papa  to-day,  written  as  soon 
as  he  had  seen  Mr.  Calstock.  He  is  very  angry  with 
Sir  Lionel,  and  calls  him  several  names  which  made 
me  think  it  wiser  to  burn  the  letter  as  soon  as  I  had 
read  it  twice. 

There  is  no  need  to  pour  oil  on  the  flames,  and  I 
don't  trust  Hanway,  who  may  read  my  letters,  and 

no 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

perhaps  tell  Sir  Lionel  what  they  say.  I  begin  to 
feel  as  if  she  were  a  wardress  and  I  were  a  prisoner, 
for  though  she  doesn't  pay  me  any  attention  when 
I  want  her,  I  often  find  her  rummaging  among  my 
things  when  I  would  like  to  be  by  myself,  pretend- 
ing she  has  mending  to  do — which,  however,  she 
never  does. 

Papa  writes  to  say  that  he  wishes  he  could  do 
more  for  me,  but  that  he  doesn't  like  to  interfere. 
He  says  that  marriage  is  always  difficult,  and  gen- 
erally impossible,  and  that  the  only  thing  that  can 
make  it  tolerable  is  money.  He  says  that,  having 
money,  everything  else  will  come  right  to  me  in 
time,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things,  and  that  the 
only  real  fear  he  has  is  lest  Sir  Lionel  should  not 
prove  to  be  so  rich  as  he  is  thought  to  be. 

He  says  that  Mama  is  thinking  of  coming  to 
Paris  for  a  day  or  two,  but  that  perhaps  I  had  bet- 
ter say  nothing  about  it  yet. 

I  certainly  shan't. 


PARIS,  March  2oth. 

Two  eventful  days. 

I  was  horribly  tired  and  listless  yesterday  morn- 
ing, and  I  refused  to  go  out,  saying  that  I  had  a 
headache. 

While  we  were  at  dejeuner,  a  message  was 
brought  to  Sir  Lionel  that  a  lady  wanted  to  speak 
to  him,  and  he  went  out,  apologising  to  me  for  leav- 
ing me,  and  looking  rather  annoyed,  I  thought. 

When  I  looked  out  of  the  window,  I  saw  an  open 
taxicab  waiting,  with  a  lady  inside.  Sir  Lionel  went 
across  the  pavement  to  her,  and  she  invited  him  in, 
and  they  drove  off  together.  I  couldn't  see  much 
of  her,  only  that  she  was  dressed  in  beautiful  furs. 

Although  I  am  not  jealous,  for  I  don't  care  enough 
about  him,  I  do  think  it  is  horrid  of  Sir  Lionel  to 
meet  so  many  other  women  when  he  has  just  mar- 
ried me. 

I  was  thinking  about  this  and  then  about  Mr. 
112 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Calstock,  and  crying  a  little,  when  a  waiter  came 
up  and  threw  open  the  door,  and  announced: 

"Miladi  Rusberi." 

For  the  moment  I  didn't  recognise  Mama  under 
this  alias;  but  when  she  came  in,  looking  so  neat 
and  so  high-bred,  as  she  always  does,  and  so  differ- 
ent from  anybody  else,  in  her  plain  motor-bonnet 
and  thick  travelling-coat,  I  felt  as  if  I  should  faint, 
I  was  so  glad. 

I  could  see  that,  though  she  laughed  and  spoke 
very  fast  and  very  gaily,  just  like  her  usual  self, 
in  fact,  she  was  nervous  and  anxious.  And  when 
she  took  me  to  the  window  and  had  what  she 
called  "a  good  look  at  me,"  the  tears  came  into 
her  eyes  and  she  kissed  me  suddenly  two  or  three 
times. 

"Where  is  Sir  Lionel  ?"  she  asked  in  a  voice  that 
threatened  mischief. 

"He  has  gone  away — in  a  cab — with  a  lady,"  I 
answered  dryly. 

She  frowned,  and  stamped  her  foot,  and  grew 
very  red,  but  she  did  not  say  anything. 

I  just  laid  my  arms  along  hers  and  tried  to  look 
into  her  eyes,  and  I  said,  in  a  very  low  voice: 

"Mama,  how  could  you?" 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

She  didn't  want  to  meet  my  eyes,  and  she  asked 
sharply — 

"How  could  I  what?" 

"Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean.  How  could  you 
marry  me  to  that  man?  You  knew  all  about  it, 
and  you  must  have  known  something  about  him. 
You  ought  to  have  warned  me,  to  have  told  me  at 
least  something!" 

She  turned  upon  me  in  that  vivacious  way  of  hers, 
like  a  bright  bird. 

"No,  I  couldn't  tell  you  anything,"  she  said 
quickly.  "If  I  had  it  wouldn't  have  come  off.  One 
can  never  tell  a  girl,  or  she  would  never  make  a  good 
marriage." 

I  shuddered.  How  could  she  use  such  a  word  to 
me  now?" 

"A  good  marriage!"  I  echoed  in  a  disgusted  tone. 

But  Mama  was  quite  herself  again.  She  frowned 
imperiously  at  me. 

"Yes,  a  good  marriage,"  she  repeated.  "There 
is  only  one  sort  of  marriage  that  is  good,  even 
tolerable,  and  that  is  marriage  with  money.  It  is  a 
horrible  thing  to  have  to  acknowledge,  but  there  is 
no  use  in  blinking  the  fact.  Marriage,  life  itself, 
is  impossible  nowadays,  without  money." 

114 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"But  if  I  don't  think  so,  surely  I  might  have  been 
allowed  a  voice  in  the  matter." 

"No,  that  was  impossible.  Men  like  Sir  Lionel 
don't  come  in  one's  way  every  day.  When  one  does, 
and  proposes  marriage,  there  is  only  one  thing  to 
be  done — to  accept  him." 

"Mama,  Mama,  when  you  must  have  known  what 
his  character  was !" 

She  turned  upon  me. 

"I  had  no  idea  he  would  leave  you  as  he  has  done, 
or  that  he  would  insult  us  through  our  lawyer.  As 
for  the  rest,  I  had  heard,  of  course,  about  Mrs. 
Frewen " 

"Who  is  Mrs.  Frewen?" 

"Never  mind  that  now.   That  is  ancient  history." 

"But  I  think  I  ought  to  know " 

Mama  interrupted  me  with  great  impatience. 

"Oh,  my  dear  child,"  she  said,  "never  try  to 
know.  It  is  the  most  unwise  thing  you  can  do. 
There  is  only  one  recipe  for  the  attainment  of  mod- 
erate comfort  in  marriage,  and  that  is  to  learn  not 
to  see,  not  to  hear,  and  not  to  know.  The  beginning 
is  hard,  of  course,  but  in  the  end  you  will  thank  me 
for  what  I  have  done  for  you  and  what  I'm  teach- 
ing you  now." 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  was  angry  as  well  as  humiliated  and  shocked. 

"If  this  is  all  true,"  I  said;  "if  you  really  mean 
that  money  is  the  only  thing  that  matters,  and  that 
one  can  only  make  married  life  endurable  by  see- 
ing and  knowing  nothing,  why  didn't  you  bring  me 
up  in  these  beliefs?  Why  have  they  been  sprung 
upon  me  now.  when  I  have  such  a  lot  to  unlearn?" 

Mama  did  not  know  what  to  answer.  For  once 
I  could  see  that  she  was  really  at  a  loss.  Of  course 
I  knew  that  she  was  only  "bluffing"  all  the  time, 
and  that  she  had  never  believed  Sir  Lionel  to  be 
capable  of  treating  a  bride  in  the  way  he  was  doing. 
But  still,  it  jarred  upon  me  to  hear  these  words  from 
her,  and  I  wanted  to  make  her  nice  and  comforting 
and  kind :  I  wanted  her  to  help  me,  and  to  tell  me 
how  I  was  to  bear  my  life,  the  dreadful  life  which 
seems  to  get  worse  instead  of  better. 

We  both  stood  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then 
she  kissed  me  kindly. 

"You  know,  don't  you,  dear,  that  one  can't  bring 
up  young  girls  except  as  one  does?  One  always 
hopes  that  one  may  be  able  to  give  them  everything 
to  make  them  happy  without  having  to  do  violence 
to  one's  own  feelings  and  theirs.  But  then,  when 
the  time  comes,  and  one  recognises  the  truth  that 

116 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

only  money  can  make  a  marriage  endurable,  why, 
one  has  to  make  the  best  of  it,  and  the  girl,  once 
married,  has  to  make  the  best  of  it  too." 

"Well,  Mama,  I've  done  that  as  long  as  I  could. 
But  I  can't  any  longer.  When  you  go  back  to  Lon- 
don, I  shall  go  with  you." 

Poor  Mama  grew  quite  white. 

"Oh,  no;  oh,  no,"  she  said  in  a  strained  sort  of 
hoarse  voice.  "If  I  had  dreamt  of  such  a  thing  I 
would  never  have  come." 

I  began  to  whimper. 

"I  was  hoping,"  I  said,  "that  that  was  why  you 
had  come,  to  take  me  away." 

"No,  no,  no;  it's  not  to  be  thought  of." 

"Well,  then,  if  you  don't  take  me,  I  shall  go  by 
myself.  I  can't  bear  it  any  longer.  Sir  Lionel 
neglects  me :  I  don't  mind  that ;  I  would  rather  he 
did  that.  But  he  insults  me  too.  For  it  is  insult- 
ing that  he  should  leave  me  for  these  women,  and 
that  he  should  be  so  careless  as  to  let  me  know  it 
and  see  it." 

Mama  looked  frightened.  I  suppose  she  felt  sur- 
prised to  find  that  I  was  not  the  same  easily  man- 
aged child  as  before  I  was  married. 

She  put  her  pretty  white  hand,  that  always  makes 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

mine  look  so  red  and  clumsy,  on  my  shoulder,  and 
patted  me  as  if  I  had  been  one  of  her  little  Pekinese. 

"Hush,  hush,  dear!"  she  said.  "I'm  sure  you 
don't  mean  what  you  say.  You  have  been  far  too 
well  brought  up  not  to  know  that  you  must  stay 
with  your  husband,  whatever  happens." 

"Whatever  happens!" 

"At  least  so  long  as  your  parents  feel  that  that 
is  the  best  thing  for  you  to  do.  I  don't  mean  that, 
if  Sir  Lionel  were  to  persist  in  treating  you  as  he 
is  doing,  you  might  not  be  justified  in,  say,  paying 
a  visit  to  us.  But  it  won't  come  to  that.  Sir  Lionel 
may  not  be  as  refined  as  one  could  wish,  but  I  am 
sure  he  has  a  good  heart,  and  when  I  have  put  things 
to  him  as  I  shall  do " 

I  interrupted  Mama  by  laughing  outright.  I 
knew  what  was  going  to  happen  as  well  as  if  I  had 
been  told  already  what  her  plans  were.  She  would 
see  him  and  coax  and  be  charming,  and  he,  of  course, 
would  have  to  be  nice  to  her.  He  would  not  be  able 
to  resist  Mama  any  more  than  anybody  else  could  !v 
And  then  she  would  go  away  quite  satisfied  with  her- 
self, and  leave  him  to  wish  her  daughter  were  as 
tactful  and  appreciative  as  she! 

She  frowned  when  I  interrupted  her. 
1x8 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  ?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"Nothing,  Mama,"  said  I.  "But  I  know  Sir 
Lionel  better  than  you  do,  and  I  know  that  nothing 
you  can  say  to  him  will  make  any  difference  to  the 
way  he  treats  me. 

She  sighed,  and  looked  annoyed,  not  with  Sir 
Lionel,  I  think,  but  with  me  for  being  so  tiresome 
as  not  to  see  with  her  eyes. 

"You  are  very  obstinate,"  she  said  plaintively. 

"No,  Mama,  only  very  unhappy,  and  very  sure 
that  I  shall  have  to  go  on  being  so." 

"No,  no,  you  won't.  We  should  not  let  you  be 
ill-treated.  You  are  too  impatient.  All  newly  mar- 
ried people  want  a  little  time  to  get  used  to  each 
other's  idiosyncrasies." 

"It  would  take  a  century  to  get  used  to  Sir 
Lionel's,"  I  said  quickly.  "Mama,  don't  you  see  that 
to  a  man  who  has  evidently  been  used  to  a  harem, 
it  is  impossible  to  be  content  with  just  one 
wife?" 

Mama  gave  a  little  smothered  shriek.  I  never  saw 
any  one  look  so  shocked. 

She  stared  at  me  in  horror. 

"Is  it  my  Cecilia,  my  little  Cis,"  she  said,  "whom 
I  hear  using  such  dreadful  expressions?" 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Yes,"  I  said.  "I'm  sorry  if  I  shocked  you,  but 
it  is  your  little  Cis,  and  she  thinks  it's  absurd  that 
you  should  be  shocked  by  hearing  the  truth,  when 
you  know  it  all  the  time.  It's  of  no  use  expecting 
me  to  be  a  little  submissive,  amiable,  obedient  child 
now,  when  I've  grown  ,up  and  been  married.  I  can't 
see  nothing  and  hear  nothing,  as  you  suggest.  It's 
a  horrible,  miserable  life  that  I  have  to  live,  and  if 
you  won't  help  me  out  of  it,  why  I  see  that  presently 
I  shall  have  to  help  myself." 

Things  were  growing  very  serious  indeed,  for  I 
was  in  deadly  earnest,  and  trembling  so  that  I 
couldn't  stand  without  supporting  myself  against  a 
chair.  But  Mama,  who  is  nothing  if  not  tactful, 
suddenly  made  a  rush  at  me  and  kissed  me  on  both 
cheeks,  and  told  me  I  was  quite  too  delightful  and 
funny,  and  that  I  should  laugh  at  myself  in  a  few 
months,  and  wonder  how  I  could  have  been  so 
silly. 

So  I  let  her  finish  what  she  had  to  say,  and  then 
I  said: 

"Look  here,  Mama,  you  don't  know  everything, 
I'm  quite  sure,  or  you  wouldn't  talk  to  me  as  you 
are  doing." 

And  then  I  told  her  that  he  had  just  gone  away 

120 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

with  a  lady,  and  I  told  her  about  the  things  that 
had  come  to  me  instead  of  to  the  actress. 

At  that  she  was  very  indignant. 

"It  was  unpardonable,"  she  said,  "that  he  should 
have  been  so  careless." 

"Now  do  you  see  that  I  can't  stay  with  him?"  I 
demanded. 

Mama  shook  her  head. 

"I  see  that  he  must  treat  you  better,  and  he  will," 
she  said  quietly.  "Sir  Lionel  wants  to  get  on  in 
society,  and  he  wanted  therefore  to  marry  into  one 
of  the  best  families.  Now  he  has  done  so  we  have 
a  hold  on  him.  I  shall  tell  him — intimate  it  care- 
fully— that  unless  he  treats  you  as  Lord  Rushbury's 
daughter  should  be  treated,  you  will  have  to  demand 
a  separation.  He  would  not  like  that." 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  do  that;  I  wish  you  would 
just  take  me  home,"  I  wailed.  "I  hate  him,  Mama, 
and  I  shall  always  hate  him,"  I  said. 

"You  didn't  at  first?" 

"When  I  first  met  him?  No,  I  didn't.  He  was 
nice  to  me  and  kind.  But  I  didn't  know  then  what 
marriage  meant,  and  you  ought  to  have  told  me. 
I  should  have  known  then  that  I  could  never  be  the 
wife  of  Sir  Lionel."  > 

121 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"You'll  get  used  to  it." 

"Never,  never,  never." 

"My  dear,  you  will.  You  must.  You  are  a 
woman,  and  you  must  fulfil  your  destiny.  It  is  of 
no  use  to  try  to  escape  it." 

"Oh,  Mama,  you  married  the  man  you  loved." 

"Yes,  but  it  comes  to  the  same  thing  in  the  end. 
Papa  lives  for  the  most  part  in  Newmarket,  and  I 
in  town.  It's  separation,  none  the  less  for  being 
amicable." 

"Oh,  Mama!" 

"Hush,  child;  don't  be  silly.  You  have  to  know 
these  things  now.  Very  few  marriages  are  happy. 
In  most  there's  a  rift  makes  itself  evident  sooner  or 
later.  Then,  if  the  people  are  well  bred,  they  agree 
each  to  go  his  own  way.  If  they  are  foolish  there's 
a  horrid  quarrel,  and  then  another  and  another,  until 
it  comes  to  a  scandal,  and  everything  has  to  be 
known  by  everybody." 

I  was  cold  with  horror.  To  hear  that  Papa  and 
Mama,  the  two  people  I  loved  most  in  the  world, 
were  not  the  happy  couple  I  had  always  imagined 
them  to  be,  was  so  shocking  that  it  seemed  to  com- 
plete the  transformation  of  the  world  from  the  happy 
place  I  had  thought  it  to  a  very  Gehenna. 

122 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  sat  down  quickly,  saying  nothing,  but  feeling  as 
if  the  ground  were  giving  way  under  my  feet. 
Where  was  I  to  look  for  comfort,  for  support,  when 
those  I  had  thought  to  lean  on  failed  me  like  this. 

For  a  little  while  we  were  quite  silent,  Mama 
walking  to  the  nearest  window  restlessly  and  looking 
out,  and  I  leaning  on  my  hand  without  even  looking 
at  her. 

Presently  she  came  back  to  me  and  put  her  hand 
on  my  shoulder. 

"You  mustn't  think  me  unkind,  Cis,"  she  said,  in 
quite  a  gentle  voice,  not  like  her  sweet  "society" 
cooing  voice,  but  really  nice  and  kind.  "But  believe 
me,  child,  I  know  everything,  and  I  understand 
everything,  and  I'm  dreadfully,  dreadfully  sorry 
that  it  should  all  have  come  to  your  knowledge  so 
suddenly.  It's  no  worse  in  the  long  run  to  find  out 
what  men  are  at  once " 

I  looked  up. 

"Some  men,  not  all  men,"  I  said  quickly.  "They 
are  not  all  like  Sir  Lionel,  I'm  quite  sure." 

I  spoke  so  firmly  that  Mama  looked  at  me  closely. 

"What  men  are  there  who  are  different?"  she 
asked. 

I  had  two  names  in  my  mind,  but  I  did  not  feel 
123 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

trustful  enough  now  to  mention  them.  I  am  quite 
sure  Jack  would  never  behave  like  Sir  Lionel  to  any 
.woman,  and  I  am  equally  sure  that  my  Mr.  Cal- 
stock  wouldn't. 

"There  must  be  many,"  I  said. 

Mama  looked  at  me  more  closely. 

"I  suppose  you  have  some  one  in  your  mind, 
some  one  who  is  different?"  she  said  sharply. 

I  shook  my  head. 

"I  feel  quite  sure,"  I  said,  "that  Sir  Lionel  is  not 
the  rule,  but  the  exception." 

"He  is  not  at  all  an  exception  among  rich  men, 
Cis,"  she  said  quietly.  "You  don't  know  the  world, 
child,  and  you  don't  understand  how  money  spoils 
people.  A  man  who  has  a  large  income  gets  spoilt. 
Everybody  runs  after  him,  and  he  is  put  upon  a 
pedestal.  He  can't  understand  his  proper  place  in 
the  world  apart  from  his  money.  He  becomes  money 
and  nothing  else,  because  you  see  that  is  all  that 
other  people  see  in  him." 

"But  /  never  saw  that,"  I  protested.  "I  didn't 
want  money." 

"Of  course  not.  Because  we  had  taken  care  you 
should  never  want  it.  A  child  wants  so  little;  but 
a  woman  wants  a  great  deal.  We  arranged  for  you 

124 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

that  the  money  should  come  just  before  you  would 
want  it.  Listen,  Cis;  when  a  year  has  passed,  if 
all  goes  well — that  means  if  Sir  Lionel  keeps  his 
money,  you  will  be  happy  and  contented.  He  will 
have  settled  down  to  consider  you,  as  he  ought  to 
do,  and  you  will  have  got  used  to  him.  On  the 
other  hand,  you  will  have  found  your  own  pursuits, 
which  you  will  have  money  enough  to  enjoy,  and 
Sir  Lionel  will  leave  you  to  yourself  as  much  as  you 
like.  Oh,  my  dear,  you  must  trust  me  to  know 
how  these  things  arrange  themselves.  It  is  only 
at  the  beginning  that  there  is  any  friction, 
and  there  is  often  a  good  deal  even  in  happy 
marriages." 

I  caught  at  the  last  words. 

"Happy  marriages !  Ah,  then  you  own  that  mar- 
riages may  be  happy!"  I  said. 

She  looked  cross  with  herself  for  having  made 
this  slip.  She  answered  rather  tartly: 

"I  ought  to  have  said  'So-called  happy  mar- 
riages,' "  she  said.  "Look  at  your  sister's." 

"Marjorie's?" 

"Yes.  Look  at  the  terrible  hash  she  has  made 
of  things  by  indulging  in  caprice  and  forgetting  her 
duty,  and  worrying  herself  with  foolish  hopes  of 

125 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

being  'happy.'  As  if  anybody  could  be  happy  in  this 
world  without  money!" 

My  throat  felt  dry. 

"What  did  she  do?"  I  asked. 

Mama  looked  at  me  searchingly,  and  I  knew  that 
she  was  going  to  point  a  dreadful  moral,  instead  of 
telling  the  exact  truth,  whatever  that  might  be. 

"What  did  she  do?  Well,  we  married  her  to  a 
charming  man,  one  whose  tastes  were  the  same  as 
Papa's,  and  as  her  own.  He  was  fond  of  horses 
and  all  kinds  of  sport.  And  he  was  rich." 

"But  he  was  old,  wasn't  he?" 

"He  was  older  than  she  was,  of  course.  She  was 
a  girl  like  you.  We  couldn't  have  married  her  to 
a  boy." 

"Well,  what  did  she  do?" 

"Instead  of  being  satisfied  to  have  everything  in 
the  world  she  wanted,  she  fell  in  love  with  another 
man,  and  then,  instead  of  fighting  against  these 
wrong  ideas  and  thoughts,  she  gave  way  to  them, 
so  that  in  the  end  her  husband  divorced  her.  There 
was  a  terrible  scandal,  of  course,  and  she  has  ruined 
her  life." 

"But  Sir  Giles  Luffenham  married  her?" 

"Yes,  But  he  is  poor,  and  they  are  always 
126 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

pressed  for  money,  so  they  can't  do  anything;  and 
they  are  always  quarrelling.  I'm  told  they  lead  the 
most  wretched  life." 

"Why  do  you  say  'I  am  told'  ?  Don't  you  ever 
see  her?" 

Mama  frowned. 

"No.  She  hardly  ever  comes  to  London — they 
can't  afford  it.  They  have  to  live  quietly  up  in  the 
North  of  England,  tied  to  each  other,  and  making 
each  other  miserable." 

I  wondered  whether  this  was  the  same  version 
of  the  story  that  I  should  hear  from  Marjorie  her- 
self, and  I  suddenly  asked  Mama  for  her  address. 

"I  don't  know  it,"  she  said  sharply.  "She  has 
estranged  herself  from  everybody  by  her  wicked- 
ness, and  now  she  is  being  punished  ior  it." 

"But  how  was  it  so  wicked  to  run  away  from  a 
man  whom  she  had  never  wanted  to  marry?"  I 
asked,  bolder  now  than  I  used  to  be. 

Mama  looked  at  me  out  of  the  corners  of  her  eyes. 

"It  is  wicked  to  run  away  from  your  husband, 
whether  you  wanted  to  marry  him  or  not,"  she  said 
severely.  "I'm  surprised  at  your  speaking  as  if  it 
were  possible  to  deny  that." 

"Well,  I  do  deny  it.  I  think  if  a  girl  chooses  a 
127 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

man  to  be  her  husband  she  ought  to  feel  bound  to 
put  up  with  him.  But  when  she  has  a  husband 
chosen  for  her,  and  he  turns  out  to  be  a  man  whom 
no  girl  could  possibly  like  or  even  respect,  then  I 
can't  see  that  it  is  wicked  to  run  away  from  him." 

"What!  With  somebody  else?"  asked  Mama  in 
horror. 

I  didn't  answer  at  once.  Such  a  contingency  had 
not  suggested  itself  to  me.  However,  now  I  faced 
it,  and  thought  it  over,  and  answered. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  I  said  deliberately  at  last,  "that 
it  is  not  so  wicked  for  a  woman  to  run  away  from 
a  husband  she  couldn't  possibly  care  for  with  a  man 
she  could  care  for,  as  for  parents  to  marry  a  girl, 
who  doesn't  know  what  marriage  is,  to  a  man  whom 
they  know  quite  well  to  be  incapable  of  making  her 
happy." 

Mama,  instead  of  taking  this  seriously,  grew  im- 
patient. 

"All  this  talk  about  men  is  disgusting,"  she  said. 
"It  is  not  a  question  of  a  man  in  marriage;  I  must 
repeat  that  firmly.  It  is  wholly  a  question  of 
money." 

I  jumped  up. 

"And  supposing,"  I  said,  "that  it  were  to  turn  out 
128 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

that  Sir  Lionel  is  not  so  rich  as  you  thought.  What 
then?" 

She  turned  quite  white. 

"It  would  be  too  dreadful,"  she  said  hoarsely. 
And  I  could  see  that  the  way  in  which  he  had  neg- 
lected me  and  insulted  me  was  nothing  in  her  eyes 
compared  to  the  fear  I  had  now  put  into  her  heart. 
"But  surely,  surely  you  have  heard  nothing  to  make 
you  think  that  is  true?" 

She  seized  me  by  the  arm  and  looked  earnestly 
into  my  face. 

I  shrugged  my  shoulders :  I  thought  she  deserved 
a  little  fright. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "it  seems  strange  that  he  should 
think  two  thousand  a  year  such  a  lot  to  settle  upon 
me,  if  he  is  so  very  rich  that  money  is  of  no  im- 
portance to  him,  doesn't  it?" 

Her  ringers  relaxed  their  grip,  and  her  face  grew 
quite  drawn  and  old.  I  felt  sorry  for  my  ill  nature. 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,  Mama,  at  least  I  have  no  other 
reason  for  suggesting  that  it's  not,"  I  said  quickly. 

But  I  could  see  that  she  also  had  had  moments  of 
uneasiness  for  the  very  reason  I  suggested. 

We  couldn't  talk  any  more,  because  at  that  mo- 
ment Sir  Lionel  came  in. 

129 


THE  DIARY.  OF  MY,  HONEYMOON 

It  would  have  been  an  awkward  meeting,  I  could 
see,  but  for  Mama's  presence  of  mind.  He  had 
evidently  not  heard  she  was  there,  and  he  scowled 
at  her  most  fearfully  when  he  first  caught  sight  of 
her.  But  she  was  so  winning  and  so  sweet,  and 
she  talked  and  smiled  so  hard,  and  clung  to  his 
hand  with  such  a  pretty  appearance  of  confidence 
and  affection,  that  I  very  soon  found  it  was  only  I 
who  was  "out  of  it,"  and  really  I  became  quite  un- 
comfortable, as  they  sat  talking  confidentially  to- 
gether in  the  corner  of  the  room,  and  felt  as  if  I 
were  rather  an  intruder. 

Presently,  as  they  did  not  appear  to  take  any 
notice  of  me  after  the  first  minute,  in  which  Mama 
pretended  to  think  that  I  did  not  look  well,  and 
Sir  Lionel  pretended  to  think  that  it  was  the  weather, 
I  slipped  out  of  the  room  and  left  them  to  their 
tete-a-tete. 

I  was  angry  and  surprised.  Surely,  knowing  that 
he  had  been  neglecting  me,  she  ought  to  have  taken 
him  to  task  and  rebuked  him ! 

But  perhaps,  I  thought,  she  was  waiting  until  I 
had  gone  away  to  speak  out  what  was  in  her  mind 
about  the  treatment  of  her  daughter. 

However,  when  after  quite  a  long  time,  during 
130 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

which  I  had  heard  them  both  laughing  more  than 
once,  Sir  Lionel  came  in  and  asked  if  I  would  like 
to  go  for  a  drive,  I  saw  that  he  was  better-tempered 
than  usual,  and  I  was  sure  that  Mama  had  been  too 
"tactful"  to  say  anything  disagreeable.  / 

I  was  angry  and  hurt. 

But  I  had  no  opportunity  of  remonstrating  with 
her  then,  for  I  had  only  three  minutes  to  get  ready 
•in.  There  was  just  this  crumb  of  comfort  for  me, 
that  Hanway,  who  came  to  dress  me  for  the  drive, 
was  more  civil  than  usual,  and  this  I  guessed  to  be 
a  consequence  of  Mama's  visit. 

But  all  day  long  the  same  thing  went  on :  Mama 
was  perfectly  sweet  and  civil  to  Sir  Lionel,  and  al- 
most ignored  me,  except  to  scold  me  for  not  looking 
more  cheerful,  and  to  tell  me  that  she  was  sorry  I 
had  not  taken  advantage  of  my  visit  to  Paris  to  buy 
some  smarter  hats. 

Sir  Lionel  caught  at  this  remark  eagerly. 

"That's  just  what  I  tell  her,  Lady  Rushbury," 
he  said.  "She  wants  style.  If  she  were  to  wear 
some  of  the  things  I  buy  for  her  she  would  look 
twice  as  handsome  as  she  does.  A  woman  may  be 
ever  so  beautiful,  but  there's  no  doubt  she  wants  the 
aid  of  dress  to  show  her  off  to  the  best  advantage." 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  was  just  going  to  say,  rather  sullenly,  I'm  afraid, 
that  I  had  no  wish  to  "show  myself  off,"  when 
Mama  dashed  in,  laughed  appreciatively,  and  agreed 
heartily  with  him. 

"But  you  must  remember,  Sir  Lionel,"  she  went 
on,  looking  at  him  persuasively  with  those  long 
eyes  of  hers,  "Cecilia  is  very,  very  young,  and  it  is 
generally  older  women  who  understand  how  to  make 
the  most  of  themselves." 

And  so  it  went  on  all  day  long.  Mama  never  once 
complained  of  anything  Sir  Lionel  did  or  said,  but 
flattered  him  and  his  taste  and  his  judgment  all  the 
time,  and  gently  reproached  me  for  ever  so  many 
little  things,  always  taking  his  part  against  me,  not 
angrily  or  unkindly,  but  with  a  suave  little  smile 
and  a  little  bend  of  the  head  to  look  into  my  face, 
until  I  was  irritated  almost  beyond  endurance,  so 
that  I  grew  silent  and  sulky,  and  had  the  greatest 
difficulty  in  the  world  not  to  let  the  tears  fall. 

The  day  seemed  very  long,  although  through 
Mama  being  there  I  was  saved  the  trouble  of  talking 
or  trying  to  be  amiable  and  to  exert  myself  to  talk. 
Mama  can  always  be  trusted  to  do  the  talking. 

She  pretended  to  Sir  Lionel  that  she  had  only 
come  over  to  Paris  to  see  her  dressmaker,  but  she 

132 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

let  him  take  her  to  the  theatre  with  me  in  the  eve- 
ning, and  she  went  shopping  with  him  and  me  to- 
day. And  she  managed  to  keep  Sir  Lionel  in  great 
good  humour  all  day  long,  and  I  think  he  paid  the 
bill  for  her  when  she  chose  herself  some  hats  and 
cloaks  and  things. 

I  was  feeling  very  sore  indeed  by  the  time  she 
bade  me  good-bye  this  evening.  But  she  got  a  few 
minutes  with  me,  in  which  she  told  me  that  she  had 
done  her  best  for  me,  and  that  she  thought  matters 
would  work  more  smoothly  for  the  future. 

"It  seems  to  me,  Mama,"  I  said,  "that  you  have 
done  nothing  but  scold  me  and  flatter  Sir  Lionel  all 
the  time." 

Mama  gave  me  a  sphinx-like  smile. 

"Yes,  my  dear  Cis,"  she  said,  "I  flattered  him 
and  I  scolded  you,  because  that  was  the  only  way 
to  manage  him.  Now  write  to  me  at  the  end  of 
a  week,  and  you  will  give  me  better  news." 

That  was  all  she  would  say,  and  I  had  not  got 
over  my  soreness  of  heart  when  she  kissed  me  at  the 
station. 

But  I  suppose  she  did  say  the  right  thing  and 
do  the  right  thing,  as  usual,  for  as  we  came  back 
to  the  hotel  Sir  Lionel  told  me  that  we  were  going 

133 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

on  to  Nice  by  the  Cote  d'Azur  train  to-morrow 
morning. 

I  am  so  glad,  if  I  can  be  glad  of  anything. 

But  oh!  I  do  feel  bitter,  and  I  can't  help  it,  to 
think  that  Mama  should  have  taken  it  all  so  calmly, 
and  that  she  should  have  left  me  feeling  as  if  I 
hadn't  a  friend  in  the  world! 


'134 


NICE,  March  22nd. 

IT  is  uncanny  to  be  as  clever  as  Mama  is!  When 
she  went  away  from  Paris  two  days  ago  I  was  sore 
and  angry,  thinking  that  she  had  done  nothing  but 
get  herself  some  nice  hats  and  things  and  some 
money  from  Sir  Lionel. 

But  ever  since  I  have  been  finding  out,  first  by 
one  little  thing  and  then  by  another,  that  she  must 
have  been  working  quite  hard  all  the  time  in  her 
own  way  to  make  things  more  comfortable  for  me. 
And  all  without  saying  anything  to  let  me  know 
what  she  was  doing. 

At  least,  she  didn't  say  much,  only  that  the  best 
way  to  get  what  you  wanted  was  to  use  flattery. 

She  must  Have  flattered  Sir  Lionel  very  much. 
I  wonder  what  on  earth  she  found  to  flatter  him 
about !  I'm  sure  I  couldn't  think  of  anything  to  say 
to  flatter  him,  if  I  were  to  try  all  day  long. 

In  the  first  place,  I  have  got  rid  of  that  horrid 
Hanway,  and  I  think  that  must  have  been  her  doing. 

135 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

At  least,  the  night  before  last,  when  Mama  had 
gone  and  after  I  had  written  my  diary,  Sir  Lionel 
called  her,  and  I  heard  them  talking  loudly  in  the 
next  room.  When  I  went  to  bed,  Hanway  was 
there,  looking  very  angry,  and  she  told  me  curtly 
that  she  was  leaving  the  next  morning. 

I  could  see  that  she  expected  me  to  ask  questions, 
but  I  did  not.  I  said,  "Very  well,"  so  that  all  she 
could  do  was  to  pull  my  hair  as  she  did  it  for  the 
night,  and  glare  disagreeably  over  my  head  at  my 
reflection  in  the  glass. 

Sir  Lionel  has  been  very  quiet  since  Mama  went 
away,  not  talking  much  about  her,  except  to  say 
that  she  was  a  very  charming  woman  who  knew  her 
way  about,  but  evidently  thinking  things  over. 

When  Hanway  had  nearly  done  my  hair  Sir 
Lionel  came  in,  and  in  an  instant  Hanway  grew 
very  red  and  tossed  her  head  and  looked  daggers 
at  him. 

"You  can  go,  Hanway,"  he  said  shortly,  without 
looking  at  her.  « 

"Yes,  I  know  I  can,"  she  said  pertly. 

But  she  went,  and  I  turned  round  in  my  chair  at 
the  dressing-table  wondering  what  was  going  to 
happen. 

136 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Sir  Lionel  drew  a  chair  up,  sat  down  on  it,  and 
began  to  tap  the  table  with  one  of  my  hairpins. 

"As  you  don't  like  that  woman,  I  have  given  her 
notice  to  go,"  he  said,  without  looking  at  me. 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  I  said.  "I'm  very  glad. 
I  don't  like  her  at  all.  She  is  very  rude  to  me,  and 
besides,  she  does  nothing  at  all  for  me." 

"All  right.  Lady  Rushbury  is  going  to  en- 
gage another  maid,  and  to  send  her  out  at 
once.  Will  you  keep  Hanway  till  .the  other  one 
comes  ?" 

"I'd  much  rather  not,"  I  said.  "But  I  will  do 
just  as  you  please." 

"Very  well.  You  had  better  take  her  to  Nice, 
then,  as  you  would  find  it  inconvenient  to  travel 
without  a  maid " 

"Oh,  no,  it  wouldn't  make  any  difference  to 
me "  I  began. 

He  looked  up. 

"Lady  Cecilia  Eberhard  cannot  travel  without 
at  least  one  maid,"  he  said. 

I  was  frightened  by  that  expression  "at  least." 
What  should  I  do  if  I  had  more  than  one  of  these 
horrid  maids  to  look  after.  But  I  said  nothing.  So 
he  went  on: 

137, 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"I  am  sorry  to  find,  Cecilia,  that  you  have  so  little 
taste  for  married  life." 

He  waited,  but  I  only  kept  very  still,  not  know- 
ing what  was  to  come  next.  He  looked  quickly  at 
me,  and  said: 

"You  know  what  I  mean."  I  just  bent  my  head 
a  little  more,  without  speaking.  "You  should  have 
confided  in  me.  It  is  a  pity  when  one  has  to  learn 
these  things  from  other  people." 

I  felt  myself  growing  scarlet,  but  I  only  bent  my 
head  still  lower  and  kept  silent. 

"Nothing  was  farther  from  my  thoughts  than  to 
obtrude.  I  had  thought  I  was  more  likely  to  be 
accused  of  neglect,  since  I  have  had  to  leave  you  so 
much." 

There  was  a  tone  of  secret  resentment  in  Sir 
Lionel's  voice  that  prevented  his  words  from  sound- 
ing kind.  I  could  see  that  Mama,  in  her  clever  way, 
must  have  put  it  to  him  that  there  was  danger  of 
my  breaking  away  altogether,  and  that  he  was  thor- 
oughly frightened  and  anxious  for  peace  at  any 
price. 

"I'm  sure  you  didn't  mean  to  neglect  me,"  I 
said,  trying  to  take  a  leaf  out  of  Mama's  book 
and  to  speak  amiably,  though  I  could  hear 

138 


,     THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

that  my  voice  was  only  frightened,  not  sweet  like 
hers. 

"As  I  say,  it  was  a  pity  the  intimation  that  you 
were  not  contented  did  not  come  from  you,"  he  went 
on  rather  tartly.  "It  is  unpleasant  to  have  to  put 
up  with  outside  interference.  But  anyhow,  it  comes 
to  this :  Lady  Cecilia  Eberhard  can  do  as  she  pleases. 
You  have  done  me  a  great  honour,  Lady  Cecilia,  in 

becoming  my  wife "  And  here  he  looked  at 

me  with  mockery  which  was  quite  ferocious,  "and 
of  course  I  am  the  humblest  of  your  servants.  You 
will  henceforth  have  your  own  apartments  where- 
ever  we  go,  and  you  shall  have  nothing  more  to 
complain  of,  I  assure  you." 

"I  have  not  complained,"!  said  in  a  strangled 
voice. 

He  had  risen  heavily  from  his  chair,  and  he  only 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Good  night,"  he  said. 

He  made  me  a  mocking  bow  and  went  out  of  the 
room. 

I  scarcely  knew  whether  I  was  very  much  re- 
lieved, or  half  relieved  and  half  alarmed.  Although 
Mama  had  done  so  much  that  was  good  for  me,  she 
had  also,  as  I  could  see  from  the  sneering  tone  in 

139 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

which  he  always  spoke  of  her  "cleverness"  and  her 
"charm,"  done  some  harm  too. 

But  at  any  rate  now  I  had  gained  something: 
we  were  going  to  leave  Paris,  where  the  ladies  were 
so  attractive  to  him,  and  I  was  going  to  be  rid  of 
Hanway. 

And  I  had  got  the  greatest  boon  possible,  next 
to  freedom — I  was  no  longer  a  slave. 

I  didn't  see  Sir  Lionel  again  until  yesterday  morn- 
ing. I  then  noticed  that  what  Mama  had  accom- 
plished was  not  all  satisfactory.  He  was  disagree- 
able in  a  curious  way,  outwardly  very  civil  to  me, 
but  never  losing  an  opportunity  to  utter  some  sneer 
about  my  family  and  their  cleverness,  their  ability 
in  getting  what  they  wanted,  and  in  getting  it  with- 
out having  to  pay  for  it. 

I  began  to  see  very  soon  what  he  meant,  but  really, 
as  I  had  no  share  in  the  bad  bargain  he  covertly 
complains  of,  I  don't  think  I  need  feel  very  self- 
reproachful. 

There  was  no  time  for  him  to  make  me  very  un- 
comfortable, as  we  had  to  start  so  early  for  the 
train. 

I  rather  enjoyed  the  journey,  for  I  was  by  my- 
self nearly  all  the  time,  and  I  amused  myself  by 

140 


THE  DIARY.  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

looking  out  of  the  window  until  it  was  too  dark  to 
see  anything. 

It  was  quite  late  last  night  when  we  got  here  and 
came  to  this  hotel.  I  slept  heavily,  and  when  I 
woke  up  this  morning  it  was  ten  o'clock. 

No  Hanway  made  her  appearance,  so  I  dressed 
myself  and  managed  to  bundle  up  my  hair  some- 
how, and  it  was  not  till  then  that  I  found  out  that 
my  trunks,  which  were  in  the  dressing-room,  had 
not  been  unpacked. 

Last  night  I  reached  here  so  late,  and  was  so 
tired,  that  I  was  like  a  doll  in  her  hands,  and  I 
went  to  bed  and  fell  asleep  while  she  was  in  the 
dressing-room  unlocking  the  trunks,  which  had  been 
got  through  the  custom-house  very  quickly,  I  think 
because  Sir  Lionel  was  generous  in  his  tips. 

This  morning  I  found  that  the  trunks  were  all  in 
disorder,  and  that,  though  some  of  the  things  had 
been  taken  out,  they  had  not  been  put  in  the  chests 
or  in  the  wardrobe. 

I  could  not  understand  it.  I  missed  a  handsome 
cloak  of  pale  blue  cloth,  embroidered  in  gold  and 
silver  and  lined  with  ermine,  which  was  one  of  Sir 
Lionel's  wedding  presents. 

And  a  hat  that  he  had  bought  me  in  Paris,  black 
141. 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

crinoline  straw  with  a  mass  of  shaded  green  ostrich 
feathers,  was  missing  too.  Then  a  suspicion  came 
into  my  mind,  and  I  looked  in  my  dressing-case, 
where  I  kept  all  the  jewels  I  brought  with  me.  Mama 
made  me  leave  some  behind  with  her,  telling  me 
she  would  send  them  to  me  if  I  wanted  them,  and 
saying  that  there  were  so  many  thieves  on  the 
Riviera  that  it  was  a  pity  to  take  everything. 

A  bracelet  with  a  big  emerald  surrounded  by  dia- 
monds had  disappeared,  and  a  diamond  ornament 
for  the  hair. 

Then  I  began  to  understand,  and  I  locked  every- 
thing up  very  carefully,  and  went  to  the  sitting-room 
to  breakfast. 

The  first  thing  that  struck  me  when  I  got  into  the 
room  was  the  lovely  view  from  the  windows.  I 
had  often  heard  of  the  deep  blue  of  the  sea  at  Nice, 
but  I  had  never  conceived  anything  so  beautiful  or 
so  strange.  For  the  first  few  minutes  I  stayed  look- 
ing out  of  the  window  in  delight. 

Then  Sir  Lionel  came  in,  and  I  remembered  every- 
thing, and  when  he  had  wished  me  good  morning, 
in  the  same  mock  respectful  manner,  shaking  hands 
with  me  ceremoniously  before  he  kissed  me,  I  asked 
whether  Hanway  had  gone  away, 

142 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON, 

He  looked  at  me  in  an  odd  way,  and  said 
yes,  he  supposed  so.  At  least  he  had  paid  her 
wages. 

"I  thought  she  was  gone,"  I  said  rather  dryly. 
"And  my  opera  cloak — the  one  you  gave  me,  and 
the  Paris  hat,  and  my  emerald  bracelet,  have  all  gone 
too." 

Sir  Lionel  was  furious.  At  first  he  said  it  was 
impossible,  but  when  I  took  him  to  see  my  trunks, 
and  explained  how  everything  had  been  packed,  he 
changed  colour,  and  swore  that  the  custom-house 
people  were  thieves,  and  that  he  would  have  the 
things  back. 

I  said  nothing  to  this,  because  I  felt  so  sure  that 
the  custom-house  people,  however  dishonest  they 
might  be,  could  not  have  had  time  or  opportunity 
to  rifle  my  trunks  and  my  dressing-case  in  the  short 
time  that  the  things  were  in  their  hands,  and  with 
Sir  Lionel  himself  looking  on. 

But  I  made  no  more  comments,  and  when,  pres- 
ently, I  examined  my  trunks  again  and  found  that 
a  dress  of  pale  pink  silk  had  disappeared  as  well  as 
the  other  things,  I  said  nothing  about  it. 

We  went  out  during  the  morning,  and  I  was  so 
delighted  with  the  beauty  of  the  place  that  I  felt 

143 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

quite  happy  for  a  little  while,  and  then  the  usual 
thing  happened,  to  spoil  it  all. 

A  lady  in  a  beautiful  white  dress,  with  a  great 
black  hat  smothered  in  a  forest  of  huge  lilies  and 
grasses,  caught  Sir  Lionel's  eye  and  smiled  and 
bowed  to  him.  She  was  exceedingly  pretty,  but  I 
did  not  like  her  face  at  all.  There  was  something 
wicked  in  it,  something  that  made  me  think  of  all  the 
pictures  I  had  ever  seen  of  enchantresses  and  tempt- 
resses. 

He  hurried  me  on  after  that,  and  took  me  back 
to  the  hotel  before  I  had  seen  much  more. 

I  was  disgusted,  but  it  was  of  no  use  to  say  any- 
thing, and  I  remained  indoors  for  the  rest  of  the 
morning  and  all  the  afternoon,  as  Sir  Lionel  went 
out  again  at  once. 

He  came  back  in  time  for  dinner,  and  then  he  took 
me  by  train  to  Monte  Carlo  to  see  the  gambling  at 
the  casino. 

I  had  scarcely  got  inside  the  rooms  when  I  caught 
sight  of  a  pale  blue  cloak  that  I  recognised.  I  was 
so  much  astounded  that  for  a  moment  I  said  noth- 
ing, I  did  not  even  exclaim.  But  I  watched  the 
wearer  of  the  cloak  until  we  came  up  with  her.  and 
then  I  managed  to  get  a  sight  of  her  face. 

144 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

And,  as  I  had  expected,  it  was  Hanway. 

"Look,"  I  said  to  Sir  Lionel,  "it's  Hanway,  and 
she  is  wearing  my  blue  cloak.  It  is  she  who  stole 
my  things." 

To  my  horror,  he  glanced  at  her  and  then  drew 
me  quickly  away. 

"It's  not  your  cloak,''  he  said,  "and  it's  not  Han- 
way, of  course.  It's  a  woman  very  like  her,  and 
the  cloak  is  very  like  yours." 

I  was  amazed. 

"Oh,  surely  you  must  know  the  cloak.  There 
isn't  another  like  it  anywhere,"  I  said. 

But  he  grew  angry,  said  it  was  absurd,  and  that 
there  were  dozens  of  cloaks  like  that.  But  I  could 
see  that  he  was  very  much  annoyed,  and  he  very  soon 
took  me  away,  without  even  letting  me  try  my  luck 
at  the  roulette  tables. 

We  came  back  to  Nice  very  early,  and  Sir  Lionel 
was  so  terribly  ill-tempered  that  I  did  not  speak  to 
him  all  the  way. 

It  has  been  a  most  uncomfortable  discovery.  I 
do  hope  that  I  shan't  have  to  meet  this  woman  every 
day  either  at  Nice  or  at  Monte  Carlo,  wearing  my 
clothes ! 


NICE,  March  2yd. 

OH,  such  a  Happy,  happy  day!  Everything  is 
changed,  and  grown  bright  and  beautiful !  And  Sir 
Lionel  may  leave  me  alone  now  as  much  as  he  likes ! 

I  don't  know  whether  Sir  Lionel  met  Hanway  or 
wrote  to  her  or  sent  her  some  message.  But  when 
to-day  he  suggested  going  to  Monte  Carlo  for  me 
to  try  my  luck  at  the  tables,  and  I  objected,  saying 
I  didn't  want  to  go  there  any  more,  he  said  quickly : 

"You  won't  see  that  woman  you  fancied  was  wear- 
ing your  cloak,  if  that's  what  you're  afraid  of." 

So  I  withdrew  my  objection,  and  we  went  over 
late  in  the  afternoon. 

Sir  Lionel  said  if  we  went  early  we  should  get 
seats,  but  that  if  we  left  it  late  we  should  have  to 
stand.  At  first  I  only  watched,  while  Sir  Lionel, 
who  was  sitting  beside  me,  played  for  both  of  us, 
by  just  telling  me  what  to  put  the  money  on.  He 
had  to  put  the  money  out,  as  I  had  none.  And  I 
grew  quite  greedy  at  the  sight  of  the  little  piles  of 

146 


THE  DIARY  OF  'MY  HONEYMOON 

silver  and  gold,  and  it  made  my  heart  bleed  to  see 
them  swept  up. 

I  have  never  cared  for  money  before,  but  I  have 
had  its  praises  so  dinned  into  my  ears  lately,  and 
I  have  felt  myself  to  be  so  helpless  for  want  of  it, 
that  I  have  got  now  a  very  strong  desire  to  have 
some  of  my  own. 

When  he  had  played  for  me  for  some  time,  I 
began  to  understand  the  game  a  little,  and  presently 
I  asked  Sir  Lionel  if  I  might  try  to  play  by  myself. 
So  he  gave  me  ten  pieces,  and  I  began.  And  I  grew 
more  and  more  interested,  and  first  I  won,  and  then 
I  lost,  and  then  I  won  again,  and  when  we  got  up 
to  come  away  I  had  won  three  pounds. 

And  besides  this  I  had  the  money  Sir  Lionel  had 
given  me. 

He  had  been  losing,  but  not  very  much,  and  he 
seemed  to  be  quite  good-humoured  over  it,  and 
then  he  asked  if  he  should  put  my  money  in  his 
purse  to  take  care  of  it,  as  I  was  carrying  it  in  my 
hand. 

But  I  said  No,  and  wouldn't  give  it  up.  And  I 
could  see  he  was  not  pleased.  I  suppose  he  likes  to 
think  that  I  am  wholly  dependent  upon  him  for 
everything,  but  I  don't  like  the  feeling,  and  if  only 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  can  win  a  little  money  of  ray  own,  I  should  be  so 
very,  very  glad. 

And  then,  as  we  came  away  from  the  tables,  I  sud- 
denly felt  as  if  my  heart  was  leaping  up,  so  that  I 
could  almost  have  screamed  with  delight. 

For  there,  not  two  yards  away,  sauntering  in  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  looking  the  picture  of  good 
looks  and  good  breeding  as  he  always  does,  and  oh, 
in  such  very  strong  contrast  to  somebody  else,  was 
Jack! 

For  a  moment  I  couldn't  speak.  But  I  stopped 
short,  and  Sir  Lionel  asked  what  was  the 
matter.  He  spoke  very  sullenly,  being  dis- 
pleased with  me  because  I  wouldn't  give  up  my  win- 
nings. 

"I  think,"  I  said,  "that  is  my  cousin,  Jack  Eard- 
ington.  Do  you  know  him?" 

He  was  better  tempered  directly.  Although  he 
complains  pretty  frankly  about  having  to  "pay  for 
it,"  he  is  always  very  anxious  to  make  acquaintances 
among  people  who  are  in  society,  and  he  asked 
about  him,  and  when  I  told  him  he  was  my  mothers 
brother's  son,  and  that  his  father  was  Admiral  Eard- 
ington,  he  said  he  supposed  I  should  like  to  speak 
to  him. 

148 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Jack  had  not  seen  us,  but  I  ran  up  to  him  and 

called  softly: 

"Jack!" 

It  was  lovely  to  see  his  face  when  he  turned 
round.  I  think  I  have  never  felt  so  happy  as  I  did 
at  that  moment,  not  even  when  I  met  Mr.  Calstock 
or  Mama.  He  shook  hands  with  me  and  with  Sir 
Lionel,  to  whom  I  introduced  him;  and  when  he 
said  he  was  staying  with  his  sister  and  her  husband, 
Lord  and  Lady  Meltham,  at  Cannes,  I  knew  that  I 
was  going  to  have  a  lovely  time. 

I  don't  care  for  Maggie,  his  sister,  and  I  have 
only  once  seen  her  husband,  Lord  Meltham;  but  I 
suddenly  felt  as  if  I  loved  them  all,  for  I  was  so 
glad  to  think  that  I  should  have  friends  of  my  own 
and  of  my  own  people  to  talk  to  again. 

I  was  afraid  Sir  Lionel  would  notice  how  de- 
lighted I  was,  and  be  angry  with  me  about  it,  as  a 
slight  to  him.  But  I  think  he  was  only  pleased  to 
think  that  he  should  now  make  the  acquaintance  of 
another  batch  of  what  he  calls  "swells." 

He  shook  hands  heartily  with  Jack,  who  said  he 
must  find  Meltham,  who  was  "somewhere  about," 
and  introduce  him.  And  Jack  ran  off  to  look  for 
his  brother-in-law,  while  Sir  Lionel  turned  to  me 

149 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

quite  sweetly,  and  said  how  pleased  I  must  be  to 
meet  my  relations  so  unexpectedly. 

And  I  felt  at  once  that  my  destiny  had  taken  a 
turn  for  the  better. 

Jack  was  not  long  in  coming  back  with  Lord 
Meltham,  who  is  a  silly,  harum-scarum  fellow,  al- 
ways in  debt  and  always  in  the  best  of  tempers  over 
it.  He  is  so  tall,  and  so  thin,  and  has  such  sloping- 
shoulders  and  such  a  long,  fair,  silly  face  that  you 
can  recognise  him  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 

He  and  Sir  Lionel  chummed  up  directly,  and  I 
knew  that  Jack  had  been  telling  him  all  about  my 
husband,  and  especially  dwelling  upon  the  fact  that 
he  was  a  "millionaire,"  and  the  two  walked  away 
together,  leaving  me  with  Jack. 

The  other  two  were  going  back  to  the  tables,  so 
we  made  an  appointment  to  meet  in  the  grounds 
outside,  and  we  went  out  into  the  moonlight.  It 
was  very  cold,  but  fine,  and  to  find  myself  once  more 
with  my  old  cousin  Jack  was  so  lovely  that  I  felt  I 
didn't  want  to  talk  at  all ;  it  was  enough  to  be  alive ! 
And  to  sit  by  him  in  the  moonlight,  and  to  look  once 
more  at  a  profile  that  did  not  include  a  decidedly 
Jewish  nose,  thick  lips,  and  a  middle-aged  double 
chin. 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

However,  I  had  to  talk,  and,  alas!  I  had  to  say 
things  that  were  not  true. 

I  was  not  going  to  own  to  being  unhappy,  and 
I  was  not  going  to  let  Jack  know  that  I  was  neg- 
lected. 

It  was  curious  how  quickly  I  made  up  my  mind 
to  that!  If  I  had  been  asked,  half  an  hour  before 
meeting  him,  what  I  should  say  to  Jack  if  I  did  meet 
him,  I  think  I  should  have  answered  that  I  should 
get  his  sympathy  by  telling  him  a  little  of  my  situa- 
tion, and  so  obtaining  his  pity. 

But  when  I  found  myself  sitting  by  his  side,  and 
met  his  eyes  looking,  oh,  so  tenderly  and  kindly, 
into  mine,  somehow  I  knew  on  the  instant  that  I 
must  be  careful,  and  that  I  must  not  say  too 
much. 

So  when  he  began  by  asking  me  whether  I  was 
happy,  I  replied  that  I  was. 

This  was  true  indeed  in  a  way,  for  I  had  been  feel- 
ing very  happy  for  quite  ten  minutes;  but  he 
took  my  answer  to  mean  more  than  it  did,  and 
he  looked  surprised,  and  I  think,  rather  disap- 
pointed. 

"I'm  so  glad,  my  dear  Cis,"  he  said.  "Somehow 
I  was  afraid  that  you  and  Eberharcl  might  not  hit 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

it  off  together.  But  I  suppose  he  has  turned  over 
a  new  leaf  and  means  to  settle  down." 

These  words  made  my  heart  beat  faster.  I  felt 
a  sort  of  spasm  of  helpless  rage.  Everybody  had 
known  what  sort  of  man  he  was,  yet  not  one  word 
had  anybody  said  to  prevent  me  from  walking  into 
the  pit. 

That  was  my  feeling  as  I  heard  Jack  say  this; 
but,  determined  as  I  was  to  put  the  best  possible 
face  on  it  all,  especially  now  that  my  position  had 
become  more  bearable,  I  laughed,  and  said  I  sup- 
posed he  had. 

"Of  course  it's  awfully  rippin'  to  have  every- 
thing you  can  wish  for,  and  never  to  be  bothered 
for  money.  By  Jove !  I  can't  conceive  such  an  ideal 
state!" 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue  to  say  that  it  was 
not  at  all  like  the  state  I  was  in.  But  I  remembered 
my  caution,  and  1  only  said : 

"Poor  Jack !  I  see  I'm  expected  to  be  sympathetic, 
but  you  seem  to  have  a  pleasant  enough  time  of  it ; 
anyhow,  you've  come  here,  which  is  not  exactly  a 
cheap  place,  and  I  suppose  you're  enjoying  your- 
self." 

"Oh,  as  to  that,  I  don't  say  I'm  not.  And  now 
152 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

we've  met  you,  I  shall  be  jolly  enough.  But  to  have 
no  money,  and  no  means  of  getting  any,  is  beastly 
rotten,  Cis,  I  tell  you." 

"You  may  break  the  bank,"  I  suggested,  smiling. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"The  bank's  more  likely  to  break  me,"  he  said 
sagely.  "And,  anyhow,  I  don't  think  I  have  the 
gambler's  instinct — not  certainly  that  of  the  suc- 
cessful gambler." 

"Haven't  you?  Well,  I  think  I  have.  At  any 
rate,  I've  begun  by  being  successful  to-night,"  I 
said. 

"Oh,  well,  it  doesn't  matter  with  you.  If  you  win, 
it  amuses  you;  if  you  lose,  it  doesn't  hurt  you.  I 
believe  that,  strictly  speaking,  that's  not  gambling 
at  all." 

I  wouldn't  tell  him  how  pleasant  winning  was  to 
me,  because  I  had  no  money  allowance  of  my  own. 

"It's  interesting  though,"  I  said.  "And  I  sup- 
pose the  rich  people  are  just  as  anxious  to  win  as 
the  poor  ones." 

"Greedy  brutes,  yes!  But  of  course  that's 
only  human  nature,  to  want  to  be  on  top  all 
the  time!  You  say  you  were  lucky  to-night, 
Cis?" 

153 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Yes,  I  won  three  pounds." 

"Well  then,  look  here,  we'll  come  to-morrow,  and 
you  shall  play  for  me." 

"Oh,  no,  no,  I  should  be  afraid  to!  Supposing 
I  lost,  it  would  make  me  so  miserable!" 

Jack  laughed.  He  was  leaning  forward  to  look 
into  my  face,  very  gentle,  very  sympathetic,  very 
tender. 

"Then  I'll  tell  you  what  you  shall  do:  you  shall 
stand  behind  my  chair." 

"Yes,  I  don't  mind  if  I  do  that." 

"And  you'll  bring  me  luck,  I  know." 

"Oh,  Jack,  I  only  wish  I  could!  I  only  wish  I 
could  have  done  it  before " 

I  had  hurried  on,  I  had  betrayed  myself.  I  could 
feel  it  at  once  in  the  startled  look  in  his  eyes,  the 
movement  he  made  towards  me.  We  sat  for  a  few 
moments  silent.  It  is  only  people  who  care  for 
each  other,  or  who  are  very  intimate,  who  can  be 
silent  like  that,  leaving  the  pauses  to  take  care  of 
themselves,  not  troubling  themselves  to  make  small 
talk. 

Then  there  were  footsteps,  very  quiet,  stealthy 
footsteps  behind  the  seat  on  which  we  sat,  and  I 
looked  round  quickly,  and  so  did  Jack.  And  look- 

154 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

ing  at  us  intently,  with  oh,  such  a  spiteful  look  on 
her  face,  was  Hanway. 

She  was  wearing  my  pink  silk  dress,  one  that  was 
part  of  my  trousseau. 

I  uttered  an  exclamation  of  disgust,  and  Jack, 
who,  we  always  say,  sees  more  of  a  woman's  dress 
than  the  woman  herself  does,  muttered  under  his 
breath  : 

"By  Jove!" 

I  knew  he  had  found  out  something,  and  I  sat 
quite  still.  Hanway  had  marched  off,  swinging 
her  skirts  from  side  to  side,  and  I  sat  with  my  hands 
in  front  of  me,  trying  to  think  of  something  to  say 
to  divert  his  attention.  But  Jack  stared  at  Hanway 
as  she  walked,  and  then  he  looked  at  me,  and  saw 
that  I  was  not  so  composed  as  I  wanted  to  appear. 

"By  Jove,  Cis,  what  does  this  mean?"  he  said. 
"I've  heard  of  the  Monte  Carlo  thieves,  but  this 
beats  everything!  That  woman  is  wearing  one  of 
the  dresses  from  your  trousseau." 

I  tried  to  laugh,  as  if  at  an  absurdity.  But  I  dare 
say  there  was  something  in  my  look  or  manner  that 
betrayed  me.  At  any  rate,  Jack  suddenly  changed 
the  subject  of  his  own  accord,  and  began  to  talk  very 
quickly  about  something  else. 

155 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  didn't  pay  much  attention,  because  I  was  won- 
dering in  my  own  mind  what  I  had  better  do,  and 
I  decided  that  I  ought  to  tell  him  something.  For 
if  I  did  not,  he  would  go  back  to  his  sister  and  her 
husband,  and  tell  them  what  he  had  seen,  and  there 
would  be  gossip. 

"Look  here,  Jack,"  I  said,  "I'm  going  to  tell  you 
something  that  you  must  not  repeat,  because,  as 
you  can  see,  I  don't  want  it  talked  about.  That 
woman  was  my  maid,  and  Mama  saw  she  was  use- 
less, and  got  Sir  Lionel  to  send  her  away.  And 
she  has  revenged  herself  by  taking  some  of  my  best 
things.  I  don't  care  two  straws  about  the  things 
themselves,  but  you  may  imagine  I  don't  care  to 
see  them  worn  like  that." 

"By  Jove,  no." 

"And  I  don't  want  it  talked  about." 

"Why  don't  you  tell  your  husband,  and  he  would 
accuse  the  woman  and  get  them  back?  That  dress 
came  from  a  first-rate  firm  in  Paris,  and  cost  three 
thousand  francs." 

"I  dare  say.    But  I  don't  want  it." 

"You  ought  to  get  it  back,  though." 

"No,  no,  I  don't  want  a  scandal." 

"There  need  be  no  scandal.  You  can  claim  your 
156 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

property,  and  get  her  to  restore  it  all  under  threat 
of  prosecution.  You  tell  Eberhard.  He  will  know 
what  to  do.  It's  disgraceful  that  a  woman  of  that 
sort  should  be  walking  about  the  place  in  clothes 
which  could  actually  be  recognised  as  yours." 

For  the  first  time  a  most  hideous  thought  came 
into  my  mind  about  Hanway,  and  the  reason  why 
she  was  so  bold.  It  took  my  breath  away,  and  made 
me  feel  cold  and  sick. 

"Oh !"  I  said,  under  my  breath. 

Jack  went  on : 

"Trust  me,  there  will  be  no  row  about  it.  The 
things  will  be  given  up  as  soon  as  you  tell  Eberhard 
what  you  have  seen.  Let  me  tell  him  7  recognised 
the  dress.  It  will  make  the  case  stronger  that  it 
was  I  who  knew  it." 

"No,  no,  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more  about 
it,"  I  said  quickly. 

"Nonsense !  Don't  be  so  shy.  I  assure  you  there 
will  be  no  need  for  you  to  appear,  or  anything  of 
that  sort.  They  will  be  given  back." 

I  could  not  let  him  go  on.  He  would  have  to 
know.  I  got  up  from  the  seat. 

"No,  they  won't  be  given  back,"  I  said  desper- 
ately. 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Jack  sprang  up,  looking  quite  white. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say " 

"The  woman  would  brazen  it  out  that  the  things 
were  given  to  her." 

"Were  they?    Oh,  it's  not  possible!" 

"No,  no.  She  stole  the  dress,  but  I  would  rather 
not  say  anything  more  about  it.  I  did  tell  Sir 
Lionel." 

For  a  few  moments  we  both  stood  breathing  hard, 
saying  nothing.  Then  Jack  said  ever  so  gently: 

"Come  into  the  reading-room  and  sit  down  where 
we  can  talk.  It's  getting  cold  out  here." 

So  we  went  into  the  casino,  and  I  knew  that  he 
could  feel  my  hand  trembling  when  he  gave  me  his 
arm.  For  I  was  staggering  a  little,  feeling  dull  and 
heavy  and  stupid,  not  knowing  what  to  say,  or  how 
to  explain  away  the  bad  impression  I  had  given  with- 
out meaning  to  do  so. 

I  was  dreading  the  time  when  we  should  be  in 
the  quiet  corner  he  was  looking  for.  I  knew  that 
he  would  ask  me  questions,  and  that,  even  if  I  didn't 
answer  them,  he  was  now  quite  aware  that  I  was  not 
the  happy  bride  I  had  tried  to  make  myself  out. 

I  tried  to  think  of  subjects  of  conversation,  and 
when  we  were  seated  in  a  quiet  corner,  I  did  begin 

158 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

some  feeble  talk  about  the  London  theatres  and 
what  he  had  been  doing  with  himself.  But  he  an- 
swered hastily  and  comprehensively  that  there  was 
nothing  worth  seeing  in  town,  and  that  he  had  been 
doing  nothing,  as  usual,  and  then  he  said : 

"So  you're  not  happy,  Cis?" 

"Yes,  I  am." 

"That  blackguard  Eberhard  hasn't  the  decency 
to  treat  you  properly  ?" 

"I  don't  want  you  to  say  that." 

"Well,  it's  the  truth.  I  suppose  that  was  why 
Aunt  Vi  went  to  Paris." 

I  turned  upon  him,  rather  fiercely. 

"I  suppose  you  might  have  known  how  he  would 
treat  me,  since  you  call  him  what  you  do." 

Jack  was  taken  aback. 

"I  never  thought  he  would  behave  badly  to  you. 
Who  could  have  thought  so?  And  on  your  wed- 
ding trip?" 

"But  you  must  have  known  all  about  him?" 

"I  knew  something  about  him,  of  course.  Every- 
body did.  If  your  parents  thought  it  didn't  mat- 
ter, how  could  I  interfere?" 

"You  might  have  warned  me!  Instead  of  that, 
you  actually  congratulated  me!  How  could  you? 

159 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

It's  all  very  well  for  Papa  and  Mama  to  think  that 
money  is  the  only  thing,  but  surely  everybody  can't 
think  so !  At  least  I  ought  to  have  had  my  choice ! 
I  ought  to  have  been  told  that  he  was  rich,  but  that 
— Oh,  well,  I  don't  want  to  talk  of  these  things 
now.  It's  all  over  and  settled  and  done  with,  isn't 
it?  And  there's  nothing  to  do  but  to  make  the  best 
of  it." 

Jack  was  flushed,  excited,  angry,  undecided  how 
much  to  say. 

"Your  father  will  have  to  see  him  and  speak  to 
him,"  he  said  at  last. 

I  laughed. 

"Papa!  Why,  it  was  he  who  first  told  me  what 
a  splendid  marriage  I  was  to  make!" 

"Well,  somebody  must  speak  to  him." 

But  I  had  by  this  time  had  plenty  of  time  to  think 
things  over,  and  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  we 
were  both  straining  at  a  gnat  after  all. 

"Look  here,  Jack,"  I  said.  "I  want  you  to  forget 
all  about  this,  and  not  to  speak  about  it  to  any  one. 
It  is  not  Sir  Lionel's  fault  that  this  woman  has 
stolen  my  things,  and  I  know  he  was  frightfully  an- 
noyed when  he  found  it  out.  But  he  thinks  it  bet- 
ter to  ignore  the  thing,  and  I  agree  with  him.  I 

160 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

don't  say  I've  been  perfectly  happy  up  to  now.  But 
this  I  think  I  can  say:  I've  been  quite  as  happy  as 
you,  and  all  the  other  people  who  knew  all  about 
my  husband's  way  of  life,  had  any  reason  to  ex- 
pect that  I  should  be." 

"Don't  say  that,  Cis.     I  really  thought " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know  you  all  thought  a  miracle  was 
going  to  take  place,  and  that  Sir  Lionel  was  going 
to  be  an  ideal  husband.  Well,  you  were  all  wrong. 
But  for  all  that  I  am  not  unhappy,  and  now  that 
you  and  your  sister  have  come  out  here  I  don't  sup- 
pose I  shall  have  much  to  complain  of.  Indeed, 
I  haven't  now.  You  must  believe  me.  Sir  Lionel 
has  listened  to  reason  in  the  shape  of  Mama, 
and  has  done  his  best  to  meet  us,  and  to  make 
amends  for  anything  that  has  not  gone  quite 
right." 

I  stammered,  and  blushed,  and  hesitated,  and  be- 
gan to  cry  and  checked  myself,  and  got  through  this 
speech  somehow  as  quickly  as  I  could.  I  wanted 
to  prevent  his  holding  a  sort  of  family  council  with 
Maggie  and  her  husband.  Maggie  is  a  most  fear- 
ful gossip,  and  she  would  just  love  to  have  my  af- 
fairs to  chatter  about,  I  know. 

Jack  nodded  when  I  had  finished. 
161 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"All  right,  all  right,"  he  said. 

And  then  we  caught  the  sound  of  the  voices  of 
Sir  Lionel  and  Lord  Meltham,  and  we  got  up  and 
went  to  meet  them.  They  had  arranged  an  appoint- 
ment for  to-morrow,  that  we  are  to  go  over  to 
Cannes  to  luncheon. 

I  only  had  another  moment  with  Jack,  with  just 
time  to  tell  him  not  to  say  anything  to  Maggie, 
except  that  I  was  getting  on  all  right. 

Sir  Lionel  was  ever  so  much  nicer  to  me  coming 
back  to-night.  I  can  see  he  is  pleased  to  have  met 
Lord  Meltham,  and  from  what  he  said  to  me  I 
know  that  he  hopes  I  shall  not  tell  any  of  them  that 
I  am  not  happy. 

Indeed  I  am  happy  now,  for  I  can  see  Jack  when- 
ever I  like,  and  even  Maggie  and  Lord  Meltham 
are  all  right,  and  I  don't  feel  so  stranded  as  I  did 
before. 

As  for  the  Hanway  incident,  I  see  now,  of  course, 
that  it  was  much  more  unpleasant  than  I  had 
thought.  Otherwise  she  would  not  have  dared  to 
show  herself  in  the  casino  at  Monte  Carlo  in  my 
things.  But  after  all,  though  it  is  very  horrible 
and  awful  and  insulting,  it  is  not  as  if  I  had  cared 
for  him.  Then  it  would  have  been  unbearable.  And 

162 


THE  WARYi  OE  MY,  HONEYMOON 

it  is  not  as  if  I  could  ever  suffer  such  indignities 
again. 

Thank  God  Mama  has  prevented  that. 

I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  put  up  with  more  sneers 
from  Sir  Lionel  about  my  family  and  perhaps  about 
myself.  But  I  can't  feel  that  I  have  been  to  blame 
from  beginning  to  end.  I  tried  hard  to  save  my- 
self and  him  from  this  horrid  mockery  of  a  marriage. 
But  he  persisted  in  wanting  it,  and  so  did  Papa 
and  Mama. 

And  when  it  was  done,  when  I  had  found  out,  I 
did  my  best  to  please  Sir  Lionel.  I  dare  say  it  was 
a  poor  attempt,  for  I  think  I  must  have  shown  that 
it  was  all  against  the  grain.  But  I  did  try.  I  re- 
membered all  Mama  had  told  me  about  the  demands 
of  high  breeding,  and  I  think  I  became  a  very 
fair  imitation  of  a  fine  wax  doll.  Could  he  have 
expected  more?  In  fairness,  I  don't  think  he 
could. 

And  now  that  the  terrible  time  is  over,  and  that 
I  am  able  to  breathe  a  little  more  freely,  what  do 
I  think  of  it  all? 

I  don't  quite  know  yet,  and  I  won't  try  to  puz- 
zle it  out.  The  world  is  a  very  different  place 
from  what  I  thought  it  a  month  ago,  but  now 

163 


that   Jack    has   turned    up,    there    are   compensa- 
tions. 

Happy?  Yes,  I  am  happy  to-night,  happier  than 
I  had  thought  it  possible  that  I  should  ever  be 
again. 


164 


NICE,  March  24th. 

SIR  LIONEL  took  me  to  Cannes  to-day.  He  is  quite 
different  now,  much  nicer  to  me,  and  I  see  that  he 
is  awfully  pleased  to  be  taken  up  by  the  Melthams. 
They  are  pleased  too,  because  he  likes  to  show  off 
his  generosity,  and  they  are  not  well  off.  So  they 
are  all  contented. 

Maggie  and  her  husband  have  got  the  loan  of 
somebody's  villa;  it  is  a  very  pretty  one,  and  we 
had  a  lovely  day  there. 

Maggie  has  wormed  out  of  Jack  what  she  wanted 
to  know  about  Sir  Lionel  and  me.  I  am  thankful 
to  say  that  he  has  not  told  her  about  Hanway,  but 
she  knows  that  I  have  not  been  happy,  and  that 
Mama  had  to  come  over  to  put  things  right.  I 
took  care  not  to  tell  her  more  than  I  could  help, 
and  so  she  doesn't  know  very  much. 

Then  she  took  care  to  let  me  know  all  she  could, 
and  she  poured  into  my  ears  such  a  tale  of  Sir 
Lionel's  enormities  that  I  felt  bound  to  stand  up 

165 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

for  him,  and  to  defend  him  to  the  best  of  my  power. 

As  I  have  nothing  to  complain  of  just  now,  it  is 
the  least  I  can  do  to  look  on  his  best  side. 

Unfortunately,  this  made  her  determined  to  what 
she  called  "open  my  eyes." 

And  so  she  told  me  the  story  about  Mrs.  Frewen. 

I  protested  that  I  didn't  want  to  hear  any  more. 

"Why  do  you  tell  me  these  things,"  I  said,  "now 
that  I'm  married  to  him?  Surely,  what  he  did  be- 
fore he  married  me  doesn't  concern  me,  and  I  had 
better  not  know  it !" 

"My  dear  Cis,"  said  Maggie,  "you  had  better 
know  all  there  is  to  be  known  at  once,  and  get  it 
over.  Otherwise  you  will  come  across  some  un- 
pleasant surprises." 

"If  you  wanted  me  to  know  all  these  things,  you 
should  have  told  me  before  I  married  him." 

"So  I  would  have  done,  if  I'd  had  the  chance. 
I  don't  approve  of  letting  a  girl  marry  a  man  with- 
out knowing  anything  about  him.  Of  course,  some 
people  say  that  is  the  only  way  to  get  a  girl  to 
marry  a  man  she  doesn't  care  for,  but  I  don't  be- 
lieve that.  You  were  old  enough  to  have  had  your 
choice." 

I  was  silent.  I  knew  she  expected  me  to  say  that 
1 66 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  would  have  chosen  to  remain  unmarried,  but  I 
thought  it  better  to  say  nothing.  Having  been  told 
that  Sir  Lionel  had  for  years  been  a  diligent  fre- 
quenter of  the  lighter  sort  of  theatres,  and  well 
known  as  a  person  to  be  appealed  to  successfully  to 
keep  them  going,  that  his  name  had  been  associated 
with  various  women  whom  everybody  talks  about 
but  nobody  knows,  she  now  informed  me  that,  after 
all,  there  was  really  only  one  woman  in  the  world 
of  whom  there  was  any  need  for  me  to  feel  jealous. 

I  protested  that  I  did  not  want  to  know  the  name, 
but  Maggie  said  I  ought  to  know  it,  as  she  had  been 
informed  that  the  person  in  question  had  been  seen 
on  the  Riviera  this  season. 

"She's  a  Mrs.  Frewen,"  went  on  Maggie.  "I  be- 
lieve she  is  a  very  pretty  woman,  as  of  course  one 
would  expect.  She  is  slight,  and  not  very  tall,  with 
the  most  wonderful  long  eyes  that  look  green  some- 
times, and  sometimes  brown,  and  sometimes  grey." 

I  said  nothing,  but  I  did  not  try  to  prevent  her 
going  on  with  her  story,  for  it  suddenly  occurred  to 
me  that  this  description  would  apply  to  the  lady 
with  the  white  dress  and  the  lilies  in  her  hat,  whom 
I  had  seen  Sir  Lionel  meet  on  the  Promenade  at 
Nice. 

167 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"She  is  quite  a  nobody,  socially,"  went  on  Mag- 
gie. "Her  husband  is  a  clerk  in  a  bank,  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort,  and  of  no  particular  family.  But 
she  is  really  a  very  fascinating  person,  and  she  got 
such  a  hold  on  Sir  Lionel  that  she  hoped  to  get  him 
to  marry  her." 

"But  how  could  he,  if  she  had  a  husband  already?" 
I  asked. 

"Oh,  my  dear  Cis,  among  people  of  that  sort  these 
things  are  managed  easily  enough!  You  may  as 
well  know  now,  for  it  is  as  well  to  be  prepared." 

"I  don't  think  I  want  to  hear  any  more.  It's  all — 
horrible,"  I  said. 

I  could  not  help  shrinking  from  hearing  any  more 
about  these  horrid  ways. 

But  Maggie  persisted: 

"It's  important  for  you  to  know  this,  as  you  are 
almost  certain  to  have  trouble,  sooner  or  later,  with 
this  woman,"  she  said  coolly. 

My  heart  sank. 

"Well,  don't  force  me  to  meet  it  half-way,"  I 
urged. 

"No,  dear.  But  you  may  as  well  hear  me  out. 
Sir  Lionel  fought  to  get  free  from  her,  because  he 
wanted  to  make  a  marriage  that  would  take  him 

168 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

into  society.  And  he  succeeded.  He  married  you. 
But  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  she  will  rest  con- 
tent to  be  thrust  aside  and  forgotten.  There !  That 
is  really  all.  You  know  what  the  danger  is,  and  you 
are  forearmed." 

Was  I  ?  I  doubted  it.  I  doubted  whether  I  even 
knew  exactly  what  the  danger  was,  after  all  Mag- 
gie's pains  to  make  it  clear  to  me  that  I  had  married 
a  very  wicked  man. 

I  made  up  my  mind,  indeed,  not  to  believe  too 
much  of  what  she  told  me,  even  though  I  might 
have  reason  to  fear  that  it  could  not  all  be  thrust 
aside  as -of  no  consequence. 

What  could  happen  to  me  through  Mrs.  Frewen's 
influence?  Would  he  be  more  likely  to  want  to 
marry  her  now  than  he  was  before? 

I  could  not  see  why  he  should.  In  any  case,  I 
did  not  feel  that  I  had  much  cause  for  alarm.  If 
Sir  Lionel  were  to  run  away  from  me,  I 
certainly  should  not  feel  much  distress  about  it. 
And,  short  of  that,  I  did  not  see  in  what  way 
he  could  behave  worse  to  me  than  he  had  already 
done. 

So  I  told  Maggie  that  I  did  not  think  I  was  in 
any  danger,  and  I  at  last  succeeded,  by  a  question 

169 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

about  one  of  her  friends  in  England,  in  turning  on 
a  fresh  tap  of  scandal. 

That  is  the  worst  of  Maggie.  She  is  very  sweet, 
and  makes  a  great  deal  of  her  friends.  But  she  tells 
one  so  many  horrid  stories  about  those  who  are  not 
present,  that  one  can't  help  wondering  what  sort  of 
stories  she  tells,  when  one  is  out  of  the  room,  about 
oneself ! 

Five  minutes  after  she  had  told  me  the  story 
about  Mrs.  Frewen,  Sir  Lionel  and  Lord  Meltham 
came  in,  and  Maggie  was  as  sweet  to  Sir  Lionel  as 
'If  he  had  been  her  best  friend. 

.However,  it  did  not  spoil  my  pleasure,  and  I  have 
enjoyed  myself  to-day.  Jack  and  I  had  a  grand 
time.  We  played  at  the  petits  chevaux,  and  we  both 
lost.  But  I  was  enjoying  myself  too  much  to  mind. 

Sir  Lionel  and  Maggie  and  Lord  Meltham  were 
together  all  day,  after  luncheon,  so  that  Jack  and  I 
were  by  ourselves.  We  said  very  little  about  the 
situation  I  was  in,  but  we  talked  and  talked  about 
old  times  till  we  both  got  very  sentimental  and  nearly 
cried.  I  know  I  saw  the  tears  in  old  Jack's  eyes, 
and  it  was  hard  to  keep  back  my  own. 

Then  we  all  had  tea  at 's,  and  the  Melthams 

met  some  people  they  knew,  and  they  were  intro- 

170 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

duced  to  Sir  Lionel  and  to  me.  They  were  awfully 
nice ;  and  to  find  myself  among  people  of  my  own  sort 
again  was  so  delightful,  and  they  were  all  so  kind 
to  me,  that  I  felt  very  happy,  and  I  chattered  and 
laughed  and  enjoyed  myself.  Then  we  came  away, 
and  Jack  and  Lord  Meltham  walked  with  us  to  the 
station.  And  Jack  told  me  that  he  felt  quite  proud 
of  being  my  cousin,  and  said  that  I  was  the  prettiest 
woman  on  the  Riviera,  and  that  everybody  said  so. 

I  laughed  and  told  him  not  to  be  silly.  But  when 
we  got  into  the  train,  I  saw  that  Sir  Lionel  was  also 
in  a  very  complimentary  mood.  He  began  to  look 
at  me  again  as  he  did  in  the  old  slave  days,  and  he 
told  me  he  had  felt  very  proud  of  his  wife  that  day. 

It  worried  me  as  much  to  hear  him  pay  me  these 
compliments  as  it  pleased  me  to  have  them  paid  by 
old  Jack. 

And  I  said  hastily  that  I  didn't  deserve  to  have 
all  these  pretty  things  said  to  me.  But  he  persisted, 
and  told  me  how  pleased  he  had  been  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  my  relations,  and  hoped  I  had  not 
made  them  think  he  had  not  treated  me  well. 

"I  assure  you,"  he  said,  "there  is  nothing  I  would 
not  do,  and  no  sacrifice  I  would  not  make,  as  I  have 
already  proved,  to  make  you  perfectly  happy." 

171 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"I  am  happy,"  I  said.  "I  have  enjoyed  myself 
very  much  to-day,  and  I  am  very  glad  you  got  on 
so  well  with  my  cousins." 

But  he  was  not  satisfied. 

"You  will  tell  them,  won't  you,  that  there  is  noth- 
ing you  can  wish  for  that  you  don't  have." 

I  hesitated.  This  would  have  been  indeed  such 
a  very  far-fetched  account  of  my  married  life  as  I 
had  lived  it  up  to  now  that  there  was  no  answer  I 
could  make  that  would  have  pleased  him. 

"You  are  very  kind,"  I  mumbled  at  last,  looking 
out  of  the  window;  for  I  was  in  a  corner  seat  of 
the  train,  and  he  was  sitting  next  to  me.  The  com- 
partment was  full,  to  my  great  content,  for  I  did 
not  want  to  have  to  sustain  a  confidential  sort  of  con- 
versation, and  I  was  hoping  he  would  not  insist 
upon  having  one  when  we  got  back  to  Nice.  "You 
give  me  everything  I  want,  and  more  than  I  should 
ever  have  thought  of  wishing  for." 

I  suppose  he  could  tell  from  my  tone  that  I  was 
not  as  grateful  as  my  words  were,  and  he  said  anx- 
iously : 

"As  for  the  things  that  maid  of  yours  stole,  I 
will  get  you  some  to  replace  them,  handsomer  than 
those  were." 

172 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  did  not  answer.  It  was  an  unfortunate  speech 
of  his,  for  I  wanted  to  forget  all  about  Hanway. 
Perhaps  he  saw  this,  but  I  think  he  is  very  anxious 
to  keep  the  horrid  story  from  getting  known,  so 
that  he  could  not  keep  silent  about  it.  As  he  did 
not  speak,  he  said  presently: 

"You  agree  with  me,  don't  you,  that  it  is  better 
not  to  make  a  fuss  about  the  matter,  and  to  threaten 
to  prosecute  the  woman  ?" 

He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  he  had 
told  me  it  was  the  custom-house  people  who 
had  taken  my  things.  I  began  to  think  that 
Jack  must  have  said  something  to  let  Sir  Lionel 
know  my  dresses  had  been  recognised  upon 
Hanway. 

"I  would  rather  forget  all  about  it,  and  about 
her,  if  I  can,"  I  said  hurriedly. 

He  said  nothing  more  until  we  reached  the  Nice 
station,  where  we  got  into  a  voiture  and  drove  back 
here. 

But  when  I  came  into  the  sitting-room  for  dinner 
he  took  me  to  one  of  the  windows  and  said  in  a  low 
voice,  so  that  the  waiters  should  not  hear,  that  he 
had  sent  for  another  cloak  for  me,  and  that  one  of 
the  best  milliners  in  Nice  would  call  upon  me  to- 

'173 


THE  DIARY,  OF  MY.  HONEYMOON 

morrow  morning  to  take  my  orders  for  anything 
I  wanted. 

Of  course  it  is  very  generous  of  him,  but  as  I 
don't  care  about  dress  in  the  least,  I  don't  know 
how  to  seem  grateful.  Besides,  it  is  not  nice  to  re- 
member why  I  have  to  have  these  new  things.  How- 
ever, I  could  not  say  so,  and  to-morrow  I  suppose 
I  shall  have  to  buy  a  heap  of  things  that  will  make 
me  look  like  an  overdressed  doll,  just  when,  among 
all  the  horrid-looking,  painted-faced,  overdressed 
women  here,  I  should  like  to  go  about  in  a  sack 
with  a  strawberry  basket  for  a  hat ! 

Sir  Lionel  was  very  nice  to  me  at  dinner,  and 
afterwards  he  took  me  to  the  casino  and  gave  me 
some  money  to  play  with.  I  dare  say  he  had  forgot- 
ten that  I  had  already  got  a  nice  little  hoard.  How- 
ever, I  lost  to-night,  so  it's  lucky  I  had  something 
in  reserve. 

It  is  wonderful  what  a  difference  it  has  made  in 
Sir  Lionel  to  have  met  some  of  my  people!  He 
took  the  greatest  care  of  me,  was  very  civil  and 
complimentary  all  the  evening,  and  he  did  not  once 
run  away  and  leave  me  by  myself. 

The  coming  of  Jack  and  his  sister  has  opened  a 
new  era  for  me. 

174 


NICE,  March  2$th. 

ANOTHER  exciting  day! 

They  all  came  over  from  Cannes,  and  we 
went  to  a  concert  at  the  Sports  Club,  where  we  had 
tea. 

I  felt  horribly  shy  at  first,  because  I  was  wearing 
one  of  my  very  smartest  dresses,  the  pale  blue  with 
the  black  velvet  lattice-work  over  it,  and  Sir  Lionel 
begged  so  hard  that  I  would  wear  an  enormous 
black  hat  which  was  one  of  the  things  the  milliner 
brought  round  to  show  me,  that  I  agreed,  though 
I  felt  sure  I  should  look  dreadful  in  it ! 

I'm  sure  it  must  be  nearly  a  yard  across,  and  it 
has  to  be  worn  all  on  one  side,  so  that  I  disappear 
entirely  from  one  point  of  view.  It  has  I  don't  know 
how  many  pale  blue  ostrich  feathers  on  the  top,  and 
it  is  lined  with  pale  blue  silk  which  matches  my 
dress,  so  that  when  I  was  dressed  I  stared  at  myself 
in  the  glass  in  consternation,  feeling  that  that  ridicu- 
lous doll  with  the  light  hair  and  blue  eyes,  who 

175 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

looked  about  six  feet  high,  couldn't  by  any  possi- 
bility be  me. 

But  Sir  Lionel  was  quite  excited  about  my  ap- 
pearance, and  paid  me  ever  so  many  compliments, 
and  told  me  that  at  last  I  was  "doing  justice  to  my 
beauty,"  and  I  must  dress  like  that  every  day. 

I  see  that  he  likes  his  wife  to  suggest  "money" 
in  her  appearance;  so  there,  alas,  is  another  point  of 
difference  between  us.  For  I  never  feel  so  happy 
as  when  I  am  in  a  serge  skirt  and  a  blouse,  looking, 
as  Sir  Lionel  would  say  (in  fact  he  has  said  it  al- 
ready) like  a  "little  dressmaker!" 

I  had  the  very  uncomfortable  feeling  that  my  ap- 
pearance made  what  Jack  calls  "a  sensation"  when 
I  got  to  the  Sports  Club,  though  I  don't  know  why 
it  should,  when  there  were  certainly  fifty  women 
there  even  more  overdressed  than  I ! 

We  met  Maggie  and  Jack  and  Lord  Meltham, 
who  says  I  am  to  call  him  Hugh.  But  there  was 
a  difference  in  the  way  Sir  Lionel  and  I  were  treated, 
which  became  more  and  more  marked  as  the  time 
went  on. 

Presently  Maggie  told  me  that  the  Hanway  story 
has  got  about,  and  that  every  one  is  disgusted  with 
Sir  Lionel.  I  am  very  sorry  the  thing  has  got 

176 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

known,  and  when  I  got  an  opportunity  of  speaking 
to  Jack  I  reproached  him  for  repeating  it.  But  he 
declares  it  was  not  he  who  spread  the  story,  and  I 
can  only  suppose  that  it  is  Hanway  herself  who  has 
started  it. 

It  is  very  unpleasant  to  have  these  things  talked 
about,  and  I  feel  rather  sorry  for  Sir  Lionel.  How- 
ever, I  am  doing  all  I  can  for  him  by  going  about 
with  him  and  by  wearing  the  things  he  wants  me  to 
wear,  and  as  he  is  becoming  much  more  careful, 
and  as  I  now  have  all  the  liberty  I  want,  I  have  no 
doubt  that  the  gossip  will  die  down  in  a  day  or  two. 

Jack,  to  my  great  surprise,  was  delighted  with  my 
overdressed  get-up.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  men  are 
more  alike  than  I  had  supposed.  I  think  he  saw  I 
was  disgusted  when  he  told  me  how  nice  I  looked, 
better  than  he  had  ever  seen  me  look  before. 

I  stared  at  him  disdainfully. 

"You  like  dolls  then?"  I  said  haughtily. 

"I  don't  know.  But  I  do  know  that  I  like  to  see 
a  well-dressed  woman." 

"By  well-dressed  you  mean  overdressed,"  I  said 
severely. 

"Oh,  no,  I  don't.  Dress  has  to  be  appropriate. 
You  would  be  overdressed  if  you  were  to  wear  that 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

get-up  for  a  walk  down  at  Fouroaks,  but  here  it's 
just  right." 

"But,  Jack,  don't  you  think  it  is  better  for  a  lady 
to  be  simply  dressed,  among  all  these  people  who 
come  here  merely  to  show  off  their  money  on  their 
backs?" 

"It  all  depends  upon  what  you  mean  by  simplicity. 
I  call  your  toilet  simple.  But  on  you,  with  your 
splendid  figure,  and  with  your  lovely  face,  every- 
thing you  have  on  seems  exactly  right." 

"I  feel  very  awkward." 

"You'll  soon  get  over  that.  You  don't  look  awk- 
ward, that's  the  great  thing.  And  it's  not  only  I 
who  think  so ;  all  the  men  are  raving  about  you.  It 
doesn't  do  to  listen  to  what  they  say  about  Eberhard 
though.  That  story  will  take  some  living  down. 
He  ought  to  be  kicked." 

"Oh,  well,  don't  let  us  talk  about  him." 

"Cis,  you'll  never  get  used  to  that  fellow.  He's 
an  outsider,  and  nothing  will  ever  make  him  any- 
thing else.  I've  met  lots  of  men  who  were  no  better 
born  than  he,  who  have  been  such  good  chaps  at 
heart  that  they  found  their  level  easily  enough  and 
kept  it,  among  men  better  born  and  better  bred  than 
themselves.  But  Eberhard' s  conduct  to  you  shows 

178 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

him  to  be  a  born  cad,  and  it  makes  even  Meltham 
angry  to  mention  his  name." 

"He's  kind  to  me  now,  and  I  don't  want  to  say 
anything  more  about  it,"  I  said.  "Now  that  you  and 
Maggie  have  come  I'm  as  happy  as  a  bird.  I  only 
wish  you  were  staying  here  instead  of  at  Cannes, 
so  that  I  could  see  more  of  you." 

"You  will  see  as  much  of  me  as  ever  you  like," 
said  Jack  affectionately.  "I  shall  come  over  every 
day,  if  I  may." 

"I  wonder  whether  you  could  take  me  out  for 
walks  in  the  mornings,"  I  said.  "There  must  be 
the  most  lovely  walks  to  be  had  here." 

He  looked  doubtful. 

"I  don't  know  quite  how  we  could  manage  that," 
he  said.  "It  would  be  rippin'  if  we  could.  But  it 
won't  do  to  make  people  talk." 

"Oh,  but  you're  my  cousin !" 

"Well,  that  wouldn't  prevent  gossip,"  he  said. 
"There  are  cousins  and  cousins.  It's  a  convenient 
sort  of  relationship  in  one  way,  but  then,  again,  it's 
not  in  another." 

"Oh,  nonsense !"  I  said  impatiently.  "If  you  don't 
want  to  take  me  about,  of  course  I  don't  want  to 
press  my  society  upon  you.  But  if  you  have  only 

1179 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

got  some  silly  prudish  ideas  in  your  head,  I  really 
think  they  are  very  much  out  of  place  here." 

"It's  just  here  where  they  are  not  out  of  place," 
persisted  Jack  steadily.  There  were  heaps  of  people 
round  us,  but  they  were  all  watching  a  flying  man 
who  was  hovering  over  the  sea  in  his  aeroplane,  so 
we  were  able  to  talk  as  comfortably  as  if  we  had 
been  in  the  middle  of  a  desert.  "You  surely  can't 
suppose,  Cis,  that  I  don't  want  to  take  you  about. 
What  I'm  afraid  of  is  that,  placed  in  the  very  dif- 
ficult position  you're  in,  as  the  lovely  wife  of  a  wholly 
impossible  man,  you  would  set  unkind  tongues  wag- 
ging directly  if  you  were  to  be  seen  going  about 
Math  any  one  else." 

I  thought  this  was  silly,  and  I  shrugged  my  shoul- 
ders, much  offended. 

Then  he  came  close  to  me  and  whispered: 

"Look  here:  the  truth  is  we  should  be  stopped 
directly,  and  I  should  have  to  go  away.  I  want  to 
go  on  seeing  you ;  I  must.  But  to  do  that  we  must 
have  a  little  caution,  a  little  prudence.  You  are  such 
a  child;  you  don't  know  these  things.  But  you 
might  trust  me,  I  think." 

And  then  suddenly  I  began  to  see  that  he  was 
right,  for  I  noticed  that  one  or  two  people  were  look- 

180 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

ing  at  Jack  and  me  in  the  sort  of  way  that  makes 
people  think  they  will  say  something  ill-natured  to 
one  another  by  and  bye. 

I  seem  to  be  learning  things  very  fast  now,  and 
I  got  a  lesson  this  afternoon. 

So  I  left  Jack  and  began  talking  to  somebody  else. 
And  then  I  found  out  another  strange  thing:  that 
the  dress  I  had  on  seemed  to  help  me  to  get  just 
the  right  tone  among  the  people  I  was  talking  with. 
Friends  of  Maggie's  and  Jack's  they  were:  nice 
people  for  the  most  part.  And  they  all  had  the  same 
tone,  a  sort  of  irresponsible  way  of  talking  that 
seemed  flippant  and  idle  at  first,  but  that  one  falls 
into  the  way  of  easily. 

So  that  presently  I  found  myself  talking  just  like 
them,  and  enjoying  it. 

And  at  last  I  had  quite  a  little  circle  round  me, 
and  then  I  caught  sight  of  two  people  watching  me. 
The  one  was  Jack,  and  the  other  was  Sir  Lionel. 

They  both  had  exactly  the  same  look  in  their  eyes, 
and  it  made  me  rather  wish  I  hadn't  made  myself  so 
smart. 

Hugh  had  to  go  away  without  Maggie,  to  see  an 
old  lady  off  to  Mentone.  Then  Sir  Lionel,  who  had 
been  very  subdued  and  rather  ill-tempered,  and  who 

181 


was  evidently  quite  aware  that  he  was  in  everybody's 
black  books,  offered  to  escort  Maggie  to  the  train. 

This  left  Jack  just  the  opportunity  I  knew  he  had 
been  waiting  for,  and  he  told  Sir  Lionel  he  would 
see  me  back  to  our  hotel.  I  don't  think  Sir  Lionel 
quite  liked  it,  but  Jack  carried  me  off,  and  I  was  in 
such  a  hurry  to  go  that  I  was  whisked  away  before 
any  objection  could  be  made. 

Jack  and  I  drove  back  here  in  a  voiture.  I  was 
tired,  but  I  had  enjoyed  myself  so  much  that  I  felt 
quite  happy. 

I  didn't  want  to  talk  to  Jack  even,  and  when  I 
got  out  at  the  hotel  I  put  out  my  hand  and  smiled 
at  him,  and  thanked  him  for  having  brought  me. 

"I'll  take  you  upstairs,"  he  said  quietly. 

"No,  you'd  better  not  come  in.  I'm  really  too 
tired  to  talk  to  you." 

He  laughed. 

"As  if  that  mattered — with  me!" 

He  came  in,  and  we  came  up  into  this  sitting- 
room,  and  I  sat  down  and  began  to  try  to  get  at  the 
pins  in  my  hat  to  take  it  off.  Jack  came  over  and, 
without  saying  anything,  found  the  pins  and  ex- 
tracted them  very  cleverly  and  very  gently,  one  by 
one. 

182! 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Thank  you,  Jack,"  said  I.  "How  clever  you  are! 
You'd  make  a  splendid  lady's  maid." 

"Yes,"  said  he.     "Better  engage  me,  Cis." 

"All  right.  I  won't  forget  when  I  want  to  make 
another  change." 

This  was  an  unlucky  speech,  and  I  was  sorry  the 
moment  I  had  made  it,  for  it  reminded  us  of  what 
I  wanted  to  forget — the  recent  episode  of  Hanway 
and  the  things  she  had  stolen. 

Jack  frowned. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "that  Sir  Godfrey  Rayne 
took  Eberhard  in  hand  this  afternoon  and  gave  him 
a  dressing  down?" 

"Who  is  Sir  Godfrey  Rayne?"  I  asked,  be- 
wildered, for  I  had  never  heard  of  him. 

"What  a  child  you  are!  Sir  Godfrey  is 
a  sort  of  referee  for  everybody  who  is  any- 
body, and  a  word  from  him  is  equal  to  a  dozen 
sermons  from,  say,  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury." 

"And  what  did  he  say  to  Sir  Lionel?" 

"What  didn't  he  say?  Nobody  heard,  of  course; 
but  it  was  easy  to  see,  by  his  looks,  and  by  your 
husband's  too,  what  sort  of  things  he  was  saying. 
I  bet,  Cis,  that  Eberhard  won't  venture  to  insult  you 

183 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

again  in  a  hurry.     If  he  does  he'll  be  kicked  out 
of  decent  society." 

I  sat  with  my  hands  round  my  knee,  trembling  a 
little,  not  quite  knowing  whether  I  was  glad  or  sorry 
that  so  much  trouble  was  being  taken  on  my  ac- 
count. On  the  one  hand,  it  made  me  certain  that  I 
should  never  again  have  to  put  up  with  the  slights 
and  annoyances  I  had  suffered  in  Paris  and  on  my 
first  arrival  here.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  made 
me  ashamed  to  think  that  my  affairs  were  a  subject 
of  gossip  to  everybody. 

What  a  different  thing  marriage  is,  as  I  know  it, 
from  what  I,  in  the  old  ignorant  days,  imagined  it 
to  be,  when  I  thought  of  it  only  as  meaning  days 
with  Jack,  without  his  having  to  go  away! 

And  now  it  was  Jack  himself  who  was  telling  me 
these  things — Jack,  as  kind  and  as  nice  as  ever,  but 
different — now  that  I  know  so  much  more  about  life 
and  what  things  mean ! 

"I'm  sorry!"  I  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"Never  mind.     Don't  think  about  it  any  more." 

He  was  leaning  over  the  back  of  the  settee  on 
which  I  was  sitting.  What  a  comfort  it  was  to  have 
him  near  me  again ! 

And  yet 

184 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

We  were  silent  for  a  few  moments.  Then  I  be- 
gan to  undo  the  buttons  of  the  long  white  gloves 
I  was  wearing.  Jack  put  out  his  hand  and  reached 
over  me  far  enough  to  undo  the  buttons  of  my  left- 
hand  glove.  Then,  raising  my  hand  quickly  to  his 
lips,  he  kissed  it. 

His  lips  were  burning,  and  I  shivered. 

"Don't,"  I  said  hoarsely. 

"All  right."  He  was  still  holding  my  left  hand, 
und  I  felt  that  his  own  were  trembling.  A  horrible 
impulse  urged  me  to  turn  towards  him,  to  put  my 
right  hand  where  my  left  was,  to  meet  his  eyes. 

But  I  knew  I  must  not  do  this.  I  fought  with  my- 
self, half  frightened,  half  angry. 

"You  had  better  go  away,"  I  said. 

My  voice  sounded  faint  and  weak.  I  felt  his 
grasp  growing  tighter  on  the  hand  he  held. 

"Why?" 

I  did  not  at  once  answer. 

A  thousand  reasons  for  his  leaving  me  were  ready 
in  my  brain,  and  one  strong  above  all  that  I  did  not 
dare  to  utter. 

"Why  must  I  go?"  he  repeated  passionately. 

I  tried  to  draw  my  hand  away,  but  it  seemed  as 
if  all  the  strength  had  gone  out  of  me.  I  felt  like 

185 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

a  reed,  a  wisp  of  hay,  a  feather,  anything  that  is 
without  the  power  of  resistance,  of  standing  up- 
right. 

It  was  he  who  spoke  next,  and  his  voice  was 
changed.  It  seemed  to  be  broken  and  hoarse,  but 
with  something  in  every  tone  that  went  straight 
down  to  my  heart,  making  me  ready  to  yield  to  him, 
to  let  him  stay,  as  he  asked  to  do. 

But  yet  I  knew  that  I  must  not,  that  I  dared  not. 

"Why  may  I  not  stay?  Your  old  Jack,  eh,  little 
Cis?" 

I  wanted  to  scold  him  for  speaking  to  me  in  that 
voice,  for  making  me  feel  as  I  was  feeling. 

He  was  a  man;  he  knew  so  much  more  than  I; 
surely  he  must  know  what  he  was  doing  to  me,  how 
he  was  melting  down  principles  that  ought  to  be 
hard  and  strong,  and  making  me  forget  what  I  ought 
to  remember! 

For  a  moment  my  hand  rested  trembling  in  his, 
and  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  not  to  let  my  fingers 
curl  round  his,  affectionately,  convulsively. 

Then  I  got  back  some  of  my  self-command,  and 
tried  to  laugh. 

"Old  Jack  ought  to  see  that  I'm  tired,  and  that 
the  kindest  thing  he  could  do  would  be  to  leave  me 

186 


to  rest  a  little,  since  I  shall  certainly  have  to  go  out 
again  after  dinner.  And  if  I  have  to  go  without  any 
rest  first,  I  shall  lose  all  that  magnificent  reputation 
for  good  looks  which  old  Jack  himself  had  been 
the  first  to  assure  me  I've  got,"  I  said. 

"Well,  can't  you  rest  with  me  in  the  room?  Let 
me  help  you  off  with  your  things.  Of  course, 
you  can't  rest  in  all  that  finery.  But  you  can 
change  into  your  tea-gown  and  be  as  lazy  as  you 
like." 

"No,  I  can't.    It's  all  fastened  up  the  back." 

"Let  me  unfasten  it  for  you.  You  said  I  was  a 
capital  lady's  maid." 

"No." 

"Why  not?  Do  you  think  I'm  not  clever 
enough  ?" 

"No,  of  course  not.  But  someone  might  come 
in  and  think  it  odd  I  should  let  you  do  it." 

"Well,  somebody  has  to  do  it.  Didn't  you  tell 
me  you  were  without  a  maid  now?" 

"Yes.    But  the  chambermaid  comes  when  I  ring." 

"Well,  ring  for  her  now.  Anything  rather  than 
that  I  should  be  turned  out" 

"But  you'd  better  go,  Jack,  before  Sir  Lionel 
comes." 

187 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Oh,  he  won't  say  a  word.  I  bet  you  he'll  be  as 
meek  as  a  lamb  to-day." 

"But  I  want  you  to  go !" 

"What!  After  all  your  talk  about  my  going 
about  with  you?" 

I  had  felt  sure  he  would  say  that,  and  I  was  not 
prepared  with  an  answer.  The  truth  was,  though 
I  would  not  for  the  world  have  told  him  so,  that  I 
had  suddenly  grown  afraid  of  myself,  afraid  of  him, 
and  conscious  that,  if  I  were  to  let  myself  go  ever 
so  little,  I  should  break  down  into  silliness,  into 
confidences  which  I  ought  not  to  make,  into  con- 
fession that  I  was  unhappy  and  lonely. 

Lonely !  Yes,  that  was  what  I  felt.  And  some- 
how this  loneliness  seemed  worse  when  Jack  was 
there  than  when  I  was  alone.  We  were  getting  into 
an  emotional  state  which  I  dreaded  to  encourage. 
And  it  was  strange  to  think  back  to  the  time  when 
I  should  just  have  cried,  and  have  let  Jack  dry  my 
eyes  and  tell  me  not  to  be  a  goose. 

I  began  to  be  angry  with  him  for  not  under- 
standing, or  rather  for  pretending  not  to  under- 
stand. 

I  stamped  my  foot  impatiently  on  the  floor  and 
sat  up  on  the  settee,  trying  to  drag  my  hand  away 

188 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

from  him.     But  he  just  slid  round  the  end  and 
laughed  at  me. 

"You  did  want  me  to  take  you  for  walks,  now 
didn't  you?" 

"Walks.  Yes,  that's  different.  I  never  asked  you 
to  come  and  tease  me  like  this." 

"Do  you  mean  that  I'm  never  to  come  and  see 
you,  except  formally,  on  the  days  when  you  're- 
ceive/ Lady  Cecilia?" 

"Oh,  don't  be  silly.  No.  I  only  mean  that  I 
really,  really  want  to  be  alone  now." 

"All  right.    Give  me  a  kiss,  and  I'll  go  at  once." 

He  was  close  to  me.  For  one  moment  I  was  in- 
clined to  let  him  kiss  me,  and  to  kiss  him  back.  But 
the  next  I  sprang  up  with  a  laugh,  and  told  him  he 
was  absurd,  and  that  he  must  go  away  at  once  and 
not  tease  me  any  more. 

Then  he  caught  me  and  kissed  me  against  my  will. 
Oh,  yes,  it  was  against  my  will,  though  I  didn't  try 
to  get  away.  I  couldn't.  I  felt  as  if  I  was  paralysed, 
and  yet  as  if  I  was  glad  not  to  be  able  to  get  away. 

Suddenly  I  released  myself — so  suddenly  that  I 
almost  fell  on  the  floor. 

"How  could  you?"  I  said  in  a  whisper.     "You 

have  no  right " 

189 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"No  right  to  love  you?  Why  not?  Who  has  a 
better  right  than  I  ?  Cis,  don't  you  want  me  to  love 
you,  child?  You  look  so  lonely,  so  helpless,  it 
makes  my  heart  bleed  to  see  you !" 

I  could  only  repeat  the  same  words: 

"You  have  no  right,  no  right.  I've  done  nothing 
to  make  you  think  of  me  like  that." 

"I  think  of  you  as  a  martyr,  nothing  less, 
Cis.  You  have  been  sacrificed  to  other  people's 
needs." 

"Nonsense.  I'm  not  a  martyr.  But  if  I  were 
that's  no  reason  why  you  should  treat  me  as  if  I 
were  unworthy  of  respect." 

"Cis,  how  can  you  say  such  things !" 

"I  say  it  because  it's  true.  You  know  so  much 
that  you  ought  to  treat  me  beautifully!" 

I  burst  into  tears  and  threw  myself  upon  the 
sofa,  and  Jack,  very  penitent  and  gentle,  stood  near 
me  and  begged  to  be  forgiven. 

"Don't  cry,  Cis;  you  make  me  feel  such  a  brute," 
he  said.  "Indeed  I  didn't  mean  to  make  you  cry. 
Why  should  you  cry  about  it?  Why  should  you  be 
angry  with  me  for  loving  you,  for  being  mad  when 
I  see  you  thrown  away?" 

I  sat  up  suddenly,  drying  my  eyes. 
190 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"I'm  angry,"  I  said,  "because  you  seem  to  think 
it  doesn't  matter  how  you  treat  me  now." 

"Come,  Cis,  my  darling,  that  isn't  fair." 

"And  don't  call  me  darling.  You  never  dared  to 
before." 

He  said  nothing  for  a  minute,  and  I  sat  sobbing 
quietly  and  still  snivelling  a  little.  Then  he  bent 
down  and  laid  one  hand  on  the  end  of  the  sofa,  and 
asked  in  a  low  voice: 

"Shall  I  go  away,  then?" 

I  bowed  my  head  without  saying  anything.  But 
he  did  not  go  at  once.  So  presently  I  looked  up 
and  saw  him  looking,  oh,  so  sorry  and  so  kind  and 
so  handsome  and — well,  just  old  Jack!  And  as  I 
looked  up  he  turned  to  go  away. 

I  do  believe  that  it  was  only  just  a  trick 
and  that  he  didn't  mean  to  go.  But  to  see 
him  turn  away  from  me  was  more  than  I  could 
bear. 

"Jack,  don't  go!    Don't  go  like  that,"  I  said. 

He  came  back  quietly,  so  as  not  to  frighten  me, 
and  sat  down  beside  me  on  the  sofa,  and  held  one 
hand  while  with  the  other  I  kept  on  mopping  my 
poor  red  eyes.  And  while  we  sat  like  that,  neither 
of  us  saying  a  word,  suddenly  I  heard  a  sound,  and 

191 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  looked  up  and  I  saw  that  Sir  Lionel  was  in  the 
room,  glowering  at  us. 

I  cried  out,  "Oh!"  and  Jack  started  up. 

Sir  Lionel  laughed,  and  frowned  still  more. 

"So  this  is  how  you  take  advantage  of  my  hos- 
pitality," he  said  to  Jack. 

But  before  Jack  could  make  any  answer  I  had 
come  between  them,  and  I  said  quickly: 

"Jack  is  my  cousin.  What  advantage  has  he 
taken?" 

Sir  Lionel  frowned  at  me  and  then  pushed  me 
aside. 

Jack  said: 

"I  brought  Cecilia  back  from  the  casino,  Sir 
Lionel.  I  don't  know  how  that  can  be  called  taking 
advantage  of  your  hospitality.  I  have  done  noth- 
ing else." 

I  was  beginning  to  wonder  how  much  Sir  Lionel 
had  heard  or  seen.  And  as  I  wondered  I  caught 
sight  of  myself  in  a  mirror,  and  saw  that  between 
my  struggle  with  Jack  and  my  burying  my  head 
on  the  sofa  to  cry,  I  had  made  my  hair  very  un- 
tidy. So  that  even  if  Sir  Lionel  had  seen  and  heard 
nothing,  he  could  easily  guess  that  Jack  and  I 
had  not  been  sitting  upright  and  solemn,  like 

192 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

school-children  at  a  tea-party,  all  the  time. 

And  then  there  were  my  red  eyes  and  my 
drenched  handkerchief ! 

We  all  stood  rather  awkwardly,  and  from  the 
fact  that  Sir  Lionel  did  not  seem  to  know  quite 
what  tone  to  take  I  gathered  courage,  and  was 
sure  that  he  knew  nothing  that  it  mattered  his 
knowing. 

Indeed,  there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  have 
resented  it,  if  he  had  seen  Jack  kiss  me,  for  I  do 
think  that  when  a  man  allows  himself  so  much  lib- 
erty as  he  does,  he  has  no  right  to  be  very  strict 
with  his  wife. 

So  I  broke  the  silence  myself. 

"Jack,"  I  said,  and  I  held  out  my  hand  to  him  as 
I  spoke,  "it  was  very  good  of  you  to  bring  me  home. 
Thank  you  very  much.  Give  my  love  to  Maggie, 
and  tell  her  I'll  write  about  the  theatre  party.  Good- 
bye." 

Then,  with  what  I  considered  an  inspiration,  I 
put  up  my  face  for  Jack  to  kiss.  My  heart  was 
beating  very  fast,  but  I  thought  that  if  I  did  this, 
it  would  be  the  best  possible  way,  to  show  Sir  Lionel 
that  we  were  on  cousinly  terms.  And  Jack  was 
clever  enough  to  understand,  and  he  gave  me  a  little 

193 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

kiss  on  the  cheek  and  said  good-bye,  and  promised 
to  give  my  message,  and  then  he  bowed  to  Sir  Lionel 
and  went  out. 

I  think  he  felt  rather  frightened  though,  for  at 
the  door  he  looked  at  me  nervously.  But  I  was 
standing  before  a  mirror  by  that  time,  fastening  up 
my  hair,  and  I  only  saw  the  reflection  of  his  face, 
and  nodded  reassuringly. 

But  I  did  not  feel  very  easy  in  my  mind,  especially 
when  I  heard  Sir  Lionel's  heavy  step  behind  me,  and 
turning,  found  that  he  had  come  close  to  me,  with 
a  most  disagreeable  expression  on  his  face. 

He  was  very  red,  and  a  great  vein  was  swollen 
up  on  his  forehead,  making  him  look  frightful. 

He  stood  in  my  way  so  that  I  could  not  pass  him, 
so  I  went  to  the  sofa  where  I  had  left  my  hat  and 
picked  it  up  with  my  gloves. 

"When  is  my  new  maid  coming?"  I  asked,  for 
the  sake  of  saying  something. 

"I  don't  know.  I  told  Lady  Rushbury  you  were 
without  one." 

He  spoke  sulkily,  and  I  saw  that,  by  luck  rather 
than  judgment,  I  had  made  a  fortunate  opening, 
since  the  subject  of  the  maid  was  one  which  Sir 
Lionel  felt  sore  about. 

194 


THE  DIARY  Of  MY  HONEYMOON 

"It  doesn't  really  matter.  Down  at  Fouroaks  I 
used  sometimes  to  do  without  one.  My  old  nurse, 
Kelly,  was  often  ill,  and  I  wouldn't  have  anybody 
else  about  me." 

I  was  on  my  way  to  the  door,  but  my  boasted 
cleverness  in  waiting  on  myself  being  put  to  an  awk- 
ward test,  I  let  the  hat  fall  on  the  floor. 

Sir  Lionel  picked  it  up,  and  holding  it,  said : 

"So  you  let  your  cousin  make  love  to  you?" 

He  was  not  so  aggressive  as  I  had  expected, 
though  he  spoke  in  a  sulky  tone. 

"No,  I  don't  let  any  one  make  love  to  me,"  I 
said. 

"You  let  him  kiss  you." 

"Well,  he  is  my  cousin." 

"I  disapprove  of  such  familiarity." 

I  looked  down  and  said  nothing,  but  I  suppose 
the  expression  of  my  face  was  pretty  eloquent,  for 
he  went  on  quickly: 

"A  woman,  especially  a  beautiful  woman,  can't 
be  too  careful.  I  hope  Lady  Rushbury's  daughter 
is  not  one  of  those  new  women  who  think  they  are 
the  same  as  men." 

"Certainly,  I  shouldn't  think  that." 

He  found  it  a  little  difficult  to  go  on,  I  believe, 
195 


for  he  fumbled  with  my  hat  and  pulled  one  of  the 
feathers  out. 

"I  have  been  made  to  suffer  a  good  deal  on  your 
account  by  persons  who  call  themselves  your 
friends,"  he  said  at  last,  glaring  at  me  rather  an- 
grily. 

But  it  was  strange  to  me  to  note  that,  since  I  had 
that  day  taken  a  new  sort  of  position  and  shown 
myself  capable  of  holding  my  own  a  little,  he  was 
much  more  respectful,  and  though  he  was  in  a  very 
bad  temper,  he  took  care  to  keep  control  over  him- 
self. 

"That  was  not  my  fault,"  I  said  gently. 

"Well,  no,  I  don't  say  it  was.  But  thinking  as 
highly  of  you  as  I  do,  and  being  rated  as  I  was  for 
not  treating  you  better,  it  is  a  surprise  to  me  to  find 
that— that " 

"There  is  nothing  that  you  need  be  surprised  at," 
I  said. 

"I  hope  you  will  not  invite  your  cousin  here 
again." 

The  blood  surged  up  into  my  head,  and  I  de- 
termined, once  for  all,  to  make  a  stand. 

"I  can't  promise  never  to  see  my  friends,"  I  said, 
speaking  in  jerks. 

196 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"I  didn't  ask  that.  But  to  receive  young  men — 
alone " 

"Surely  you  may  leave  it  to  my  discretion." 

I  was  growing  quite  brave.  Sir  Lionel  looked  at 
me  and  tried  another  way  of  treating  me.  He  be- 
came quite  civil  and  flattering,  and  said: 

"If  you  were  not  so  handsome,  Cecilia,  it  wouldn't 
matter.  But  as  It  is,  you  have  already  made  your- 
self quite  a  name  for  your  beauty,  and  you  will  find 
yourself  watched,  and  everything  you  do  will  be 
noted  and  commented  on.  I  was  proud  of  my  wife 
to-day,  very  proud.  I  found  myself  looking  forward 
to  the  time  when  she  will  receive  my  guests — and 
royalty  among  them — in  a  palace  in  London. 
And  I  know  that  she  will  do  the  honours  like  a 
princess." 

As  he  said  these  flattering  things  he  was  coming 
nearer  and  nearer  to  me,  looking  at  me  as  if  he 
would  eat  me,  and  biting  the  feather  out  of  my  hat 
until  I  could  see  all  his  false  teeth  and  the  gold  set- 
ting, and  he  looked  like  a  wild  animal  ready  to 
pounce  on  its  prey. 

I  drew  my  breath  very  fast  and  went  quickly  to 
the  door,  avoiding  him. 

"If  you  can  kiss  your  cousin,"  he  said  sharply,  as 
197 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

he  sprang  after  me,  "surely  you  can  kiss  your  hus- 
band." 

But  I  had  tasted  freedom,  and  I  was  more  spirited 
than  I  had  been  at  first. 

"If  we  were  really  husband  and  wife,"  I  said 
quickly,  in  a  tone  so  hoarse  that  it  was  not  like  my 
voice  at  all,  "it  would  be  different.  But  we  are  not. 
I  have  never  been  your  wife,  and  you  have  never 
been  my  husband." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

He  was  really  shocked,  and  he  stared  at  me  with 
starting  eyeballs.  But  I  was  too  much  excited  to 
be  stopped  now,  and  I  said  what  had  been  in  my 
mind  a  long  time. 

"Why  should  one  be  married  in  a  church,  asking 
God's  blessing  and  making  vows  to  each  other,  if 
marriage  meant  nothing  more  than  it  means  to 
you  ?" 

He  was  taken  aback.  And  the  strange  thing 
was  that  he  was  as  truly  shocked  and  disgusted 
as  if  I  had  said  something  very  dreadful,  very 
wicked. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  stammered  again,  evi- 
dently overwhelmed  to  find  the  submissive  creature 
he  had  married  transformed  into  a  woman  who  could 

198 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

think  for  herself  and  speak  for  herself.    "What  have 
you  to  complain  of  now  ?" 

"Nothing,  nothing.  I  don't  complain.  But  you 
know  you  said  just  now  that  you  were  my  husband, 
and  you  spoke  as  if  you  had  rights  that  other  men 
had  not." 

He  stared  at  me,  growing  redder  than  ever. 

"You  don't  mean  to  deny  that,  I  should  think." 

"I  deny  it." 

He  moved  forward  and  took  hold  of  the  back  of 
a  chair. 

"You  have  got  some  strange  notions  into  your 
head  from  someone,"  he  said  suspiciously.  "You 
were  not  like  this — you  didn't  take  this  tone,  when — 
when  we  were  first  married." 

"No.  I  was  too  much  taken  by  surprise.  I 
hadn't  had  time  to  think.  I  was  like  a  lamb  that  had 
been  caught  and  tied  up  ready  to  be  killed.  And 
you  imposed  upon  my  ignorance,  Sir  Lionel." 

He  looked  up  quickly  when  I  called  him  that. 
Usually  I  didn't  call  him  anything,  and  never  have 
I  used  his  Christian  name  without  any  prefix. 

He  stared  at  me  fiercely,  and  then  struck  the  back 
of  the  chair  with  so  much  force  that  he  hurt  his 
hand. 

199 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"It's  your  d d  mother  has  put  you  up  to  this, 

or  else  your  d d  cousin,"  he  said  through  his 

teeth. 

I  shook  my  head. 

"No,  it  isn't.     It's  my  d d  husband,"  I  said. 

I  was  rather  frightened  myself  when  I  made  this 
retort,  which  was  not  very  ladylike.  But  it  almost 
paralysed  Sir  Lionel.  He  stared  at  me  as  if  he  had 
never  seen  me  properly  before. 

"W-w-wbat  has  made  you  take  this  tone  with 
me?"  he  stammered  out  at  last,  "if  not  th-th-these 
people  of  yours?  And  wh-wh-what  do  you  mean 
by  calling  me  your  husband  at  one  moment,  and 
then  saying  the  next  that  I'm  nothing  of  the  sort?" 

I  had  to  think  a  little  before  I  could  answer  this, 
because  I  saw  that  I  had  contradicted  myself.  At 
last  I  said: 

"I  thought  you  were  asking  too  much  of  me  when 
you  expected  me  not  to  see  my  friends.  You  might, 
in  other  circumstances,  have  had  the  right  to  ask  me 
that,  but  as  it  is,  I  think  you  have  not." 

"Well,  well." 

"In  that  way  it  seems  to  me  you  have  no  right  to 
expect  me  to  obey  as  if  things  had  been  different 
between  us." 

200 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"How  different?" 

"Well,  if  you  had  been  content  with  one  wife." 

He  turned  from  me  suddenly,  cursing  and  storm- 
ing. 

I  at  once  took  advantage  of  the  opportunity,  and 
leaving  my  hat  in  his  hands,  I  slid  round  the  door 
and  ran  to  my  room,  knowing  that  he  would  not 
dare  to  follow  me  there. 

And  I  have  never  left  my  room  since,  for  I  could 
not  dine  with  him  and  go  out  after  that  scene.  So 
I  sent  down  word  that  I  had  gone  to  bed  with  a 
headache,  and  indeed  it  is  true  that  my  head  throbs 
and  I  can  scarcely  see  to  write  this. 

Oh,  what  is  going  to  happen  now?  I  feel  as  if 
a  new  path  had  suddenly  opened  out  before  me,  and 
that  I  don't  quite  know  where  it  is  going  to  lead  to ! 


NICE,  March  2&th. 

I  HAVE  had  to  let  two  days  pass  without  writing  in 
my  diary,  for  I  have  had  too  much  to  do  and  to 
think  about  to  be  able  to  write. 

The  day  before  yesterday  began  all  right,  for  Sir 
Lionel,  whom  I  felt  rather  shy  about  meeting,  was 
quite  nice  in  the  morning,  and  seemed  to  have  for- 
gotten all  about  the  scene  of  the  evening  before. 

He  asked  me  particularly  what  I  was  going  to 
wear  in  the  afternoon  at  Cannes,  where  we  were 
going  to  meet  the  Melthams,  and  when  I  suggested 
wearing  the  same  dress  again,  the  pale  blue  that 
had  been  so  much  approved  of,  he  said  he  should 
prefer  me  to  wear  something  fresh. 

It  seemed  shockingly  extravagant,  but  I  said  I 
would,  and  in  the  afternoon  I  put  on  another  of  the 
dresses  I  brought  with  me  from  London,  and  which 
I  am  convinced  Sir  Lionel  paid  for. 

This  one  was  white  cashmere,  embroidered  with 
white  silk,  slit  up  the  sleeves  to  show  heliotrope  silk, 

202 


THE  DIARY  OF.  MY,  HONEYMOON 

and  worn  with  an  underskirt  of  heliotrope  silk  with 
ever  so  many  frills.  With  this  I  wore  another  huge 
hat,  all  black,  with  one  enormously  long  white  os- 
trich feather.  And  I  carried  a  white  silk-em- 
broidered sunshade  lined  with  heliotrope. 

I  begin  already  to  see  how  the  love  of  dress  may 
grow  upon  a  woman  until  she  becomes  recklessly 
extravagant,  for  I  did  feel  a  pleasure  of  a  sort  in 
seeing  myself  transformed  from  a  blue  doll  to  a 
white  doll,  and  in  wondering  what  old  Kelly  and 
Miss  Trood  would  say,  and  old  Nannie  and  the 
Hawkinses^  if  they  could  see  me  dressed  up  like 
this! 

Really  I  make  quite  a  nice  doll,  not  very  like  life, 
but  quite  an  admirable  lay-figure  for  showing  off 
ridiculously  expensive  clothes! 

Sir  Lionel  was  delighted,  and  complimented  me 
on  my  improvement  in  "style."  I  can  see  that  his 
ideal  of  a  wife  is  a  woman  who  would  wear  three 
new  dresses  every  day. 

My  ideal  husband  is  a  man  who  would  let  me  run 
about  all  day  in  a  serge  coat  and  skirt,  and  then 
change  in  the  evening  into  a  little  Japanese  silk 
frock  that  I  could  send  to  the  cleaner's  when  it  got 
soiled ! 

203 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

We  met  Jack  and  the  Melthams,  and  I  had  a 
lovely  time,  for  when  we  got  to  the  tennis-ground 
Jack  and  I  went  away  together,  and  sat  where  we 
could  talk. 

He  was  very  sweet  and  humble  and  kind,  and 
hoped  Sir  Lionel  had  not  been  very  disagreeable 
to  me  about  him. 

And  when  I  told  him  it  was  all  right,  and  that 
I  had  stood  up  to  him,  and  sort  of  asserted  my  right 
to  see  my  friends,  he  said  it  was  splendid  of  me, 
and  that  I  should  presently  find  things  straighten- 
ing out  until  I  had  made  out  my  own  course  of  life 
and  could  follow  it  without  hindrance. 

Then  we  got  sentimental  again,  and  I  was  so 
happy  that  I  was  sorry  when  Maggie  came  up  and 
carried  me  off,  telling  Jack  he  mustn't  let  me  afficher 
myself  with  him  like  that. 

He  looked  very  cross,  but  she  would  have  her  way, 
and  she  and  I  walked  away  together.  I  knew  that 
I  was  in  for  a  tiresome  gossip,  and  that  she  wanted 
to  tell  me  all  the  scandals  she  knew.  It  takes  a  long 
time  for  Maggie  to  get  through  her  list,  for  she 
seems  to  know  a  story  that  she  calls  "good"  or 
"amusing"  about  every  other  person  on  the  Riviera. 

But  I  soon  found  that  it  was  worse  than  this:  it 
204 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

was  about  Sir  Lionel  and  myself  and  Jack  that  she 
wanted  to  talk. 

"My  dear  Cis,"  she  began,  "I  want  very  much 
to  give  you  a  little  advice,  which  I  know  you  will 
be  clever  enough  to  act  upon.  You  have  made  a 
great  sensation  here  by  your  beauty  and  by  the  ex- 
quisite taste  of  your  dress,  and  Sir  Lionel  is  simply 
delighted  with  you,  and  so  proud  that  you  have  only 
to  show  a  little  tact  to  have  it  all  your  own  way  with 
him." 

I  frowned.  I  hate  the  very  word  "tact."  It  just 
means  falsehood  and  pretending  things. 

"Yes,  I  know  he  is  pleased,"  I  said. 

"And  somebody  else  is  displeased.  It's  hateful 
to  have  to  tell  such  a  young  woman  as  you  are  about 
such  things,  but  I  suppose  you  have  heard  of  Dolly 
Frewen?" 

I  didn't  like  hearing  my  cousin  speak  of  this 
woman  in  that  familiar  way,  but  as  I  knew  whom 
she  meant,  I  had  to  say,  "Yes." 

"Well,  she  is  staying  at  Monte  Carlo,  and  Sir 
Lionel  is  visiting  her  constantly." 

"Maggie,  please  don't  tell  me  these  things.  As 
long  as  Sir  Lionel  lets  me  live  in  my  own  way,  in- 
dependent of  him,  as  I  am  doing,  I  can  say  nothing. 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Maggie,  you  know  what  sort  of  marriage  mine  was, 
and  you  ought  not  to  try  to  make  me  bitterer  against 
him.  What  he  does  I  prefer  not  to  know  anything 
about,  and  as  long  as  I  see  nothing  I  want  to  hear 
nothing  too." 

"Yes,  dear,  that  would  be  all  very  well  if  it  could 
go  on.  But  you  don't  understand  the  situation. 
This  woman  is  not  only  very  pretty ;  she  is  also  very 
clever  and  very  determined.  She  has  made  up  her 
mind  to  be  Sir  Lionel's  wife,  and  she  is  more  likely 
to  succeed  now  that  he  has  been  forced  into  a  po- 
sition with  regard  to  you  which  hurts  his  pride. 
Don't  you  see?" 

I  didn't,  and  I  told  her  so. 

She  gave  a  sigh,  and  threw  up  her  eyes,  as  if  she 
were  talking  to  an  obstinate  child. 

"Do  you  really  think  a  man  of  the  type  of  your 
husband  will  be  content  for  ever  just  to  let  you  do 
as  you  like,  and  to  remain  respectfully  in  the  back- 
ground ?" 

I  grew  restless  and  excited. 

"If  he  is  not  satisfied  I  shall  go  back  home.  I 
am  not  going  through  what  I  went  through  in 
Paris.  Papa  wouldn't  let  me,  or  even  Mama.  And 

besides Oh,  T  can't,  I  can't." 

206 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Maggie  was  very  persuasive  and  gentle,  as  she 
put  her  hand  through  my  arm. 

"You  will  have  to  learn  to  overlook  a  little  and 
to  forgive  much,"  she  said.  "Otherwise  it  will  end 
in  your  coming  to  grief.  Listen.  Sir  Lionel  may 
not  have  been  very  much  in  love  with  you  when  he 
married  you;  probably  he  was  not.  But  now  he  is 
falling  more  in  love  with  you  every  day " 

I  shook  her  off  angrily. 

"I  don't  want  him  to.  I  could  never  like  him, 
never,  never,"  I  said  quickly. 

"You  could  never  be  in  love  with  him,  I  dare 
say,"  she  said  suavely.  "But  you  could  put  up  with 
him  if  he  were  really  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf." 

"No,  no.  You  don't  know  him!  A  man  who 
could  treat  me  as  he  did." 

"My  dear,  you  must  make  allowances,  you  really 
must.  There's  no  sense  in  not  making  the  best  of 
it  now." 

"But  if  I'm  satisfied,  and  he's  satisfied " 

"Unfortunately,  you  are  neither  of  you  satisfied." 

Maggie  is  a  great  chatterbox,  and  artificial,  and 
not  very  sympathetic  to  me.  But  she  is  too  clever 
not  to  make  one  listen  when  she  chooses.  And  she 
did  choose  then. 

207 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"Well,  unless  you  encourage  Sir  Lionel,  and  do 
your  best  to  please  him,  somebody  else  will." 

"Oh,  I  know  that.  And  somebody  will  go  on 
pleasing  him.  But  it  won't  be  always  the  same  some- 
body, you  know,  Maggie.  Sir  Lionel  would  never 
be  satisfied  with  only  one." 

"He  might  for  a  time  at  least.  As  I  say,  you  will 
probably  find  it  wise  to  be  indulgent;  but  to  begin 
with,  I  think  you  will  find  things  work  better  now 
if  you  will  be  forgiving." 

"I  can't,  I  can't.    Oh,  Maggie,  I  don't  like  him." 

"My  dear  child,  nobody  expects  that  of  you.  But 
you  might  put  up  with  him.  It  will  be  better  for 
him,  and  much,  much  better  for  you." 

"Why  do  you  interfere,  Maggie,  when  we  are 
satisfied  to  go  on  as  we  are  going?" 

"It  can't  go  on,"  said  she  quickly.  "Sir  Lionel 
complains  of  you,  and  there's  Mrs.  Frewen  at  Monte 
Carlo.  It  will  be  either  she  or  you.  It's  horrid,  it's 
humiliating  to  have  to  admit  it ;  but  unless  you  give 
way  a  little,  and  are  kind,  something  will  happen, 
and  Dolly  will  end  by  getting  her  wish  and  becoming 
Lady  Eberhard." 

"How  can  she?"  I  asked,  bewildered. 
208 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Maggie  hesitated. 

"Sir  Lionel  will  find  a  way  of  getting  rid  of  you." 

I  grew  scarlet. 

"How  can  he,  when  I  have  done  no  wrong?" 

Maggie  looked  at  me  quite  solemnly. 

"My  dear  child,  you  are  much  too  pretty  to  be 
left  alone.  If  your  husband  is  not  allowed  to  make 
love  to  you,  somebody  else  will,  and  sooner  or  later 
he  will  get  the  excuse  he  wants." 

I  was  very  angry  with  her. 

"It  is  shameful  that  you  should  suspect  me  of 
doing  anything  to  give  him  an  excuse  for  getting  rid 
of  me,"  I  cried.  "And  you  all  contradict  each  other, 
for  I  was  told  that  what  he  wanted  was  to  make  a 
marriage  which  would  take  him  into  society.  Well, 
if  he  treats  me  badly,  he  will  go  out  again." 

"I'm  not  so  sure.  It's  comparatively  easy  to  keep 
in  society,  when  one's  got  in,  as  long  as  the  money 
holds  out,"  said  Maggie,  who  seems  to  know  a  great 
deal  about  these  things.  "And  you  have  a  very 
strong  rival.  Dolly  Frewen  works  upon  his  irrita- 
tion against  you " 

"But  what  have  I  done  to  irritate  him?"  said  I. 

"It  is  maddening  to  a  man  like  that,  used  to  hav- 
ing his  own  way  in  everything,  to  find  he  can't  have 

209 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

it  with  his  own  wife.  Cis,  take  my  advice.  He  is 
falling  in  love  with  you.  Take  advantage  of  the 
fact  to  get  rid  of  Mrs.  Frewen.  If  you  make  that 
a  condition — now,  when  you  are  in  the  very  prime 
of  your  beauty,  and  now  that  you  have  just  made 
a  social  success,  you  will  have  things  all  your  own 
way." 

"I  don't  want  to.  Oh,  wait,  wait.  Don't  hurry 
me  into — into " 

I  was  stammering,  not  knowing  what  I  said.  But 
Maggie  was  deliberate,  and  she  went  on : 

"You  must  give  up  Jack." 

"I  won'tf  said  I  promptly. 

"You  must.  He  is  selfish,  and  he  would  think 
nothing  of  compromising  you,  just  for  the  sake  of 
a  few  weeks'  pleasure,  which  can  only  end  in  one 
way." 

This  was  as  unkind  as  it  was  silly,  to  run  down 
poor  Jack  to  me.  I  wouldn't  listen  to  another  word, 
but  got  away  from  her  and  began  to  talk  to  some- 
one else. 

But  the  talk  with  her  -spoilt  my  day,  for  it  made 
me  self-conscious  both  with  Jack  and  with  Sir  Lionel, 
and  I  was  glad  to  come  back  to  Nice  to  escape  the 
worry  and  excitement  of  it  all. 

210 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  found  my  new  maid  had  arrived,  of  which  I 
was  very  glad. 

She  is  a  nice,  quiet  person,  very  different  from 
Hanway.  Jack  says  discretion  oozes  out  of  her,  but 
after  what  happened  last  night  I  am  not  so  sure 
about  that! 

Her  name  is  Dawes. 

Yesterday  afternoon  I  had  a  terrible  scene  with 
Sir  Lionel.  We  had  an  engagement  with  some 
friends  of  the  Melthams  at  Mentone,  but  I  felt  so 
tired  with  all  I  have  done  the  last  few  days,  that,  as 
it  was  raining,  I  asked  Sir  Lionel  if  I  could  stay  at 
home  and  rest.  He  agreed,  and  I  put  on  my  rose- 
coloured  tea-gown  with  the  cream  lace,  and  lay 
down  on  the  sofa  in  my  own  little  sitting-room. 
Then  I  sent  Dawes  away  and  closed  my  eyes  and 
was  beginning  to  feel  quite  drowsy,  when  there  was 
a  knock  at  the  door,  and  when  I  said  "Come  in/' 
Sir  Lionel  came. 

I  jumped  up  directly,  but  he  told  me  to  lie  down 
again,  and  he  brought  a  chair  to  the  side  of  the 
couch,  and  asked  quite  nicely  if  I  didn't  think  we 
could  get.  on  better  than  we  had  been  doing. 

I  sat  up,  and  with  my  heart  beating  very  fast  told 
him  I  was  quite  ready  to  take  any  suggestion  he  had 

SII 


to  make,  and  said  that  I  was  very  sorry  if  he  had 
found  me  rather  childish  and  stupid,  and  that,  of 
course,  I  was  so  unused  to  any  sort  of  life  but  the 
quiet  country  jog-trot  at  Fouroaks  that  I  was  be- 
wildered by  the  great  change. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  quite  see  that.  But  it  is  the 
ease  with  which  you  have  dropped  into  the  ways  of 
a  society  woman  which  surprises  me." 

"Oh,  no,"  I  said,  "I  feel  that  I'm  still  very  awk- 
ward/' 

But  he  was  determined  to  be  complimentary. 

"Not  at  all.  I  never  saw  a  lady  more  able  to  hold 
her  own.  You  are  quite  charming,  quite  charming. 
I  am  only  sorry  that  misunderstandings  should  have 
arisen  between  us,  and — and  prevented  our  being  on 
better  terms." 

I  was  getting  very  nervous,  for  now  that  I  had 
had  a  few  days  of  my  liberty,  I  disliked  more  than 
ever  the  thought  of  a  change. 

I  did  not  want  to  think  so,  but  I  suppose  the  truth 
is  that  I  have  been  seeing  old  Jack,  whom  I  was  al- 
ways fond  of,  and  whom  I  thought,  when  I  was 
scarcely  more  than  a  child,  that  I  should  marry. 
So  that  now  Sir  Lionel,  with  his  red  face  and  his 
false  teeth,  and  the  toupee  he  wears  to  cover  the 

212 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

bald  patch  on  his  head,  seems  to  me  more  odious 
than  ever. 

I  hung  my  head  and  said  nothing. 

He  came  nearer  to  me,  and  said : 

"You  know  what  I  mean  ?  I  am  afraid  I  seemed 
to  neglect  you  at  first,  and  that  you  were  offended, 
and  inclined  to  think  I  set  no  proper  value  on  my 
beautiful  wife.  But  I  assure  you  it  was  not  so.  I 
admired  you  from  the  first  moment  I  saw  you,  as 
you  may  remember,  running  upstairs  with  one  shoe 
off." 

He  laughed,  and  I  tried  to.  But  the  fact  is  that 
the  thought  of  all  that  unlucky  meeting  had 
meant  for  me  made  me  much  more  inclined  to  cry! 

"I  remember,"  I  said  in  a  husky,  stifled  voice. 

"Well,  then,  if  I  thought  you  lovely  in  an  old 
ulster,  with  one  shoe  off,  you  may  guess  that  I  ad- 
mired you  still  more  when  you  were  dressed  in  be- 
coming and  handsome  gowns,"  he  said.  "I  saw 
that  you  were  a  jewel  worthy  of  any  setting,  and  I 
took  care  that  the  setting  should  be  worthy  of  the 
jewel.  You  will  allow  that,  I  think." 

"You  have  been  very  generous,"  I  said  in  the 
same  stifled  voice. 

And  all  the  while  I  was  sitting  in  a  sort  of 
213 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

pinched-up  attitude,  feeling  like  a  fool,  and  yet  not 
able  to  be  or  to  seem  at  my  ease. 

"I  think  perhaps  those  things  might  be  taken  as, 
in  some  measure,  a  set-off  against  engagements 
which  I  had  to  fulfil  which  took  me  away  from  you 
more  than  you  may  have  thought  quite  fair." 

I  said  nothing.  In  the  case  of  ordinary  business 
engagements  I  should  have  had  no  right  to  com- 
plain, but  as  it  was  I  knew  that  his  engagements  had 
been  of  another  kind.  And  yet  I  did  not  want  to 
reproach  him  with  matters  which  had  been  dis- 
cussed and  settled  between  Mama  and  him,  and  done 
with  altogether,  as  I  had  hoped. 

"I  am  hoping,"  he  said  quite  gently,  putting  his 
face  close  to  mine,  "that  you  will  have  forgiven  me." 

To  see  him  so  close  to  me  made  me  want  to  shud- 
der, and  to  prevent  his  seeing  this  I  got  up  and 
walked  across  the  room  to  fetch  my  smelling-bottle, 
which  I  luckily  saw  lying  on  a  table  under  the  win- 
dow. Sir  Lionel  rose  stiffly,  looking  very  angry. 

"Indeed,  I  hope  I  am  not  vindictive,"  I  said  lean- 
ing against  the  table  and  speaking  very  quickly,  and 
in  a  nervous  way  that  I  was  afraid  must  add  to  his 
irritation,  although  I  could  not  help  it.  "I  have  been 
quite  satisfied  with  the  arrangement  you  came  to 

214 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

with  Mama,  and  I  thank  you  for  keeping  it  so  hon- 
ourably." 

He  frowned  heavily  at  me,  and  spoke  in  a 
thick  voice,  which  showed  him  to  be  very  angry 
indeed. 

"What  arrangement?"  thundered  he,  staring  at 
me  and  thumping  down  on  the  floor  the  chair  he  had 
been  sitting  on. 

I  drew  a  long  breath  that  sounded  just  like  a  sob. 
I  did  not  know  what  to  say.  I  did  not  want  a  dis- 
cussion, and  as  for  forgiveness  as  he  meant  it,  the 
thought  revolted  me,  knowing  what  I  knew,  know- 
ing that  Mrs.  Frewen  was  staying  at  Monte  Carlo, 
and  that  people  talk  as  they  do  about  her  and  Sir 
Lionel. 

"I  mean,"  I  said  quickly,  "that  I  prefer  to  be  on 
the  terms  we  are  on.  While"  — I  hesitated,  and 
then,  as  he  glared  at  me,  I  blurted  it  out  as  best  I 
could — "while  you — you  live  your  life,  I  think  it  is 
only  fair  I  should  be  allowed  to  live  mine.  You 
think  it  fair,  I  know,  and  I  am  grateful  to  you  for 
allowing  it." 

I  was  just  as  gentle,  just  as  persuasive,  as  I  knew 
how  to  be,  but  he  was  not  at  all  appeased. 

He  came  towards  me  with  his  face  so  red  and  the 

'215 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

vein  in  his  forehead  so  large  that  I  thought  he 
scarcely  looked  human. 

"Rot!"  he  said  roughly.  "There's  no  fairness  in 
it,  and  I'm  not  going  to  put  up  with  it  any  longer. 
I'm  not  going  to  be  made  a  laughing-stock.  I'm  not 
going  to  allow  you  to  go  about  with  that  young 
Eardington,  and  to  spoon  with  him  and  with  half 
a  dozen  other  fellows,  while  I'm  kept  at  arm's  length. 
I've  considered  your  feelings;  I've  done  what  no 
other  men  would  have  done,  in  allowing  your 
mother  to  dictate  to  me,  in  putting  up  with 
your  whims  and  fancies.  But  I'll  have  no  more 
of  it.  You  are  my  wife,  and  you  must  treat  me  as 
your  husband." 

I  shrank  back.  I  was  really  frightened,  for  he 
looked  as  if  he  would  kill  me.  My  movement  en- 
raged him  still  more.  He  stamped  and  swore,  and 
seized  me  by  the  wrist. 

"Now  then,"  said  he,  "I'll  have  no  nonsense. 
Don't  pretend  you're  afraid  of  me;  the  boot  is  on 
the  other  leg.  Kiss  me,  and  say  you're  sorry  for 
having  put  on  these  airs." 

He  dragged  me  towards  him  and  kissed  me 
roughly.  I  shrank;  I  could  not  help  it. 

The  worst  of  it  was  that  he  at  once  made  a  guess 
216 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

at  the  reason,  and  I  did  not  know  whether  it  was 
not  the  true  one. 

"You  won't  kiss  me  now,"  he  said  furiously. 
"Why  not?  Why  not?  Is  it  because  you've  been 
kissing  someone  else?  Someone  you  like  better?" 

Luckily,  this  was  said  so  offensively  that  it  gave 
me  an  excuse  for  being  offended.  I  tried  to  wrig- 
gle myself  out  of  his  great  sinewy  hands. 

"I  don't  kiss  any  one,"  I  said.  "I  don't  want  to. 
If  I  did  could  you  say  anything?  When  I  know  all 
about — Mrs.  Frewen?" 

It  was  awful  to  have  to  say  this,  and  I  could  feel 
myself  growing  hot  and  crimson  as  I  said  the 
name.  But  I  could  think  of  no  other  way  to 
protect  myself,  and  I  knew  that  this  would  be 
an  effectual  one. 

It  was.  He  stepped  back  at  once  and  stared  at  me, 
no  longer  furious,  but  sullen. 

"What  do  you  know  about  her?  And  who  told 

you?"  he  said  sulkily.  "Those  d d  relations  of 

yours  at  Cannes,  I  suppose?  Young  Eardington 
himself  perhaps?" 

"What  does  it  matter  who  said  it,  when  you  can't 
deny  it's  true?"  I  said.  "If  you  could  tell  me  it  was 
not  true  I  would  do  whatever  you  wished.  I'm  sure 

217 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

you  know  I  have  no  wish  to  be  unfair.  Only  it  must 
be  fair  on  both  sides." 

I  was  getting  back  a  little  courage,  for  I  could  see 
that  my  words  had  already  had  the  effect  of  calm- 
ing him  down.  It  was  not  pleasant  to  have  to  deal 
with  a  sullen  man,  but  it  was  easier  than  to  deal 
with  one  mad  with  anger.  Besides,  he  saw  that  there 
was  sense  in  what  I  said.  Men  are  not  like  women ; 
I  think  you  can  always  reason  with  a  man,  and  he 
will  always  see  both  sides  if  you  hold  on  and  insist 
that  he  shall.  At  least  I  know  that  is  so  with  the 
few  men  I  have  known — Papa,  and  Jack,  and  now 
Sir  Lionel. 

He  flung  himself  into  a  chair  so  heavily  that  it 
creaked,  and  said  sulkily: 

"What  is  it  you  want?" 

What  I  did  really  want  was  to  go  on  as  we  are 
going;  but  I  had  already  told  him  that,  and  it  had 
made  him  angry,  so  I  said : 

"I  want  a  husband  who  is  faithful  to  me." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"You've  been  put  up  to  this,  of  course." 

"No,  T  haven't.  But  if  I  had,  am  I  asking  too 
much?" 

"I  think  you  are.  You  are  very  young  and  in- 
218 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

experienced,  and  you  don't  know  much  of  the  world. 
There  is  a  difference,  an  enormous  difference,  be- 
tween men  and  women." 

"Oh,  yes,  I'm  sure  of  that,"  said  I  readily. 

He  scowled  at  me. 

"And  yet  I  don't  know  that,"  he  said  aggressively. 
"Women  are  supposed  to  be  much  better  than  men, 
and  to  be  made  of  a  different  clay  altogether.  But 
it  seems,  after  all,  that  a  woman  can't  do  without 
lovers,  however  high  she  holds  herself." 

I  did  feel  a  little  guilty,  because,  though  it  was 
against  my  will,  Jack  had  once  kissed  me  like  a  lover. 
I  suppose  I  grew  red,  for  he  became  angry  again. 

"Now  understand,"  said  he,  "that  I  don't  admit 
all  you  contend  for.  I  consider  that  you  would 
have  been  well  advised  if  you  had  not  made  stipula- 
tions. But  if  I  have  to  submit  to  stipulations,  then 
so  must  you." 

I  knew  that  I  was  showing  resentment,  try  as  I 
might  to  conceal  it.  For  indeed  I  felt  angry, 
bitterly  angry  that  he  should  dare  to  speak  in 
this  accusing  way.  He  laughed  at  me,  mocking 
my  confusion. 

"If  I  don't  see  Mrs.  Frewen,"  he  said,  "you  don't 
see  Eardington,  mind  that." 

219 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  said  nothing.  It  was  not  because  I  felt  nothing ; 
I  was  too  angry  to  trust  myself  to  speak. 

"That's  only  fair,"  he  went  on.  "If  I'm  to  give 
up  my  friends,  you  must  give  up  yours." 

"It's  not  the  same  thing,"  I  said  hoarsely. 

"But  I  say  it  is.  You  admit  you've  kissed  Eard- 
ington." 

"Of  course.  He's  my  cousin.  You  saw  me  kiss 
him  yourself." 

He  got  up  and  came  over  to  me. 

"You  kiss  him  because  he  is  your  cousin?"  he 
glowered  at  me. 

"Why  yes,  of  course." 

"Then  why  don't  you  kiss  me  because  I'm  your 
husband?" 

I  shuddered;  I  couldn't  help  it.  I  believe  it  was 
because  he  looked  so  ugly,  with  his  red  face  and  his 
horrid  eyes.  He  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  grip- 
ping it  hard.  I  pushed  him  away. 

"I — I — I  don't  want  to  kiss — anybody,"  I  hissed 
out  in  a  whisper. 

"That's  a  lie.  I've  made  you  a  fair  offer,  and 
you  want  to  wriggle  out  of  your  side  of  the  bar- 
gain. Come  now;  will  you  reconsider  it?  Will 
you  give  up  Eardington,  this  precious  cousin,  who 

220 


THE  DIARY.  OE  MK  HONEYMOON 

is  nothing  to  you,  you  know,  if  I  give  up — Mrs. 
Frewen  ?" 

I  burst  into  tears.  I  felt  like  a  mouse  that  had 
been  caught  in  a  trap,  and  the  only  feeling  I  was 
conscious  of  was  a  sick  disgust  of  Sir  Lionel,  of  my- 
self, of  life  itself. 

"Will  you  give  him  up?"  repeated  Sir  Lionel 
loudly. 

"Oh !  I — I  suppose  so,"  I  sobbed  out.  "I'm  ready 
to  give  up  everybody,  if  only  you  will  treat  me  prop- 
erly." 

But  as  I  said  the  words,  I  could  not  help  hoping 
with  all  my  heart  that  he  would  not  agree  to  the  bar- 
gain, for  I  felt  that  I  hated  him,  that  he  was  so 
coarse,  so  brutal  in  his  cynical  confessions  to  me, 
that  I  could  never,  never  bear  to  have  him  near  me. 

Once  I  had  hoped  that  I  might  grow  to  love  my 
husband,  and  that  he  would  love  me.  Now  I  felt 
that  the  first  was  absolutely  impossible,  and  that  the 
last  was  the  very  thing  I  least  desired. 

My  tears  did  not,  I  think,  soften  Sir  Lionel,  but 
they  disconcerted  him.  He  walked  up  and  down 
the  room  impatiently;  I  heard  him  without  looking 
up,  and  I  could  hear  him  too  muttering  to  himself 
in  no  very  kindly  way,  so  that  I  was  afraid  to  speak 

221 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

again.  Gradually  my  sobs  died  down,  and  I  sat  up 
just  far  enough  to  wipe  my  eyes.  Then,  unexpect- 
edly, I  found  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  and,  not  be- 
ing prepared  for  the  touch,  I  was  conscious  that  I 
shivered. 

Then,  of  course,  the  whole  thing  began  over 
again. 

He  swore,  he  grumbled,  and  then  he  sneered. 

"You  haven't  learnt  Mama's  lessons  very  well, 
after  all,"  he  said. in  a  mocking  tone.  "She  can  al- 
ways be  sweet  when  there's  anything  to  be  gained 
by  it,  but  it  seems  you  can't  be  even  civil  when  your 
whole  future  depends  upon  your  behaviour.  You 
surely  don't  suppose  I'm  going  to  be  treated  like 
this,  as  if  I  were  a  leper,  while  you  are  living  with 
the  state  of  a  princess,  and  wearing  jewels  that 
might  have  belonged  to  an  empress !" 

I  sat  up,  rather  bewildered. 

"I'm  sorry,"  I  said,  "very  sorry  that  I  can't  do 
anything  to  please  you.  I  don't  care  for  jewellery, 
and  I  only  wore  those  pearls  last  night  because  you 
told  me  to.  T  will  give  them  back  to  you." 

"If  you  don't  care  for  them,  give  them  back  to 
me  by  all  means.  I  dare  say  I  can  find  someone  who 
will  appreciate  them,"  said  Sir  Lionel  bluntly.  "But 

522 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

you  know,  I  suppose,  that  they  are  worth  ten  thou- 
sand pounds,  and  that  such  pearls  are  not  usually 
worn  except  by  women  of  good  position.  They  are 
not  showy  enough  for  women  of  another  sort,  who 
prefer  the  glitter  of  diamonds." 

I  certainly  did  not  want  to  hear  these  things  said, 
so  I  began  to  walk  towards  the  door. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  said  he. 

"I  will  send  you  the  pearls,"  I  said. 

"D n  the  pearls.    I  bought  them  for  my  wife, 

and  as  long  as  you  are  my  wife  you  will  keep  them 
and  wear  them.  My  wife,  do  you  understand?  It 
is  of  no  use  complaining  that  I'm  fond  of  another 
woman,  and  promising  to  give  up  the  man  you  are 
fond  of,  if  you  keep  me  at  arm's  length." 

I  couldn't  answer.  I  was  afraid  of  breaking 
down  again.  But  I  bent  my  head  in  assent,  and  I 
wondered  how  my  father  and  mother  could  ever 
have  given  me  to  this  man.  Surely  they,  who  were 
experienced,  and  who  knew  the  world,  might  have 
found  out  how  coarse-fibred  he  was,  and  how  im- 
possible it  was  that  I  could  ever  even  pretend  to 
care  for  him ! 

As  I  said  nothing,  though  I  stood  submissively 
enough,  he  presently  went  on  again : 

223 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"That's  the  worst  of  your  high-bred  ladies :  they 
won't  recognise  the  fact  that  they're  only  women 
after  all.  If  they  did,  if  they  were  satisfied  to  be 
treated  as  women,  to  be  loved  as  women,  they 
wouldn't  run  the  risk  they  do  of  being  super- 
seded by  others  who  are  not  too  high  bred  to 
be  feminine." 

What  could  I  say?  I  can't  think  that  it  is  any- 
thing but  feminine  to  resent  being  treated  as  Sir 
Lionel  has  treated  me,  as  if  I  had  no  right  to  any- 
thing but  good  lodging  and  handsome  clothes. 

He  went  on  in  the  same  strain  after  a  little  pause, 
during  which  I  stood  still,  with  my  hands  clasped, 
looking  down  at  the  carpet,  while  he  still  walked 
about. 

"You  sneer  at  Mrs.  Frewen,  and  you  think  your- 
self a  million  times  better  than  she.  But  where  is 
the  great  superiority?  It  seems  to  me  there's  only 
this  difference  between  you,  that  you  expect  to  get 
everything  for  nothing,  and  she  doesn't." 

Then  suddenly  I  got  courage  to  speak.  I  walked 
back,  and  holding  the  end  of  the  sofa,  I  said : 

"Well,  if  I  do  expect  to  get  everything,  I  am 
properly  punished,  for  I  certainly  don't  get  it.  I 
don't  even  get  spoken  to  as  if  I  were  a  gentlewoman 

224 


at  all.  But  I  can  quite  understand  that  there  may  be 
a  reason  for  that." 

My  voice  was  very  weak  and  broken  and  hoarse, 
but  I  think  the  way  in  which  I  looked  at  him  made 
my  meaning  plain. 

"I  suppose  you  mean  that  I  am  not  a  gentleman," 
he  said  roughly.  "Well,  I  am  the  man  your  parents 
thought  good  enough  for  their  daughter's  husband." 

"I  think  you  ought  to  give  up  reproaching  me  for 
what  they  did,  and  remember  that,  after  all  it  was 
not  they  who  asked  you  to  marry  me,  but  you  who 
asked  to  marry  me.  I  was  the  only  person  left  out 
of  the  matter.  And,  while  you  may  have  cause  of 
complaint — for  what  I  know — I  certainly  have  more, 
since  I  was  the  only  person  concerned  who  had  no 
voice  in  the  matter." 

I  did  not  speak  angrily ;  I  felt  too  broken  and  too 
miserable  for  that.  I  just  stood  hanging  in  a  feeble 
and  helpless  way  to  the  end  of  the  sofa,  and 
made  my  speech,  which  sounded  to  me  rather 
silly  and  ineffectual  even  while  I  made  it — speak- 
ing in  little  jerks,  and  sometimes  dropping  into 
a  husky  whisper. 

And  so  the  long,  weary  wrangle  ended,  and  I 
went  sobbing  out  of  the  room,  with  nothing  settled, 

225 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

nothing  cleared  up,  but  just  with  fresh  irritation  on 
the  part  of  each  of  us. 

I  went  to  my  own  bedroom  and  threw  myself 
down  on  the  bed  and  cried  my  heart  out. 

I  had  a  fancy,  in  about  an  hour's  time,  that  I  heard 
Sir  Lionel  come  to  the  door  and  wait  there  a  little 
while  and  then  go  away  again.  But  if  so,  he  said 
nothing  about  it  when  I  met  him  at  dinner-time,  and 
so  far  from  being  kind  because  he  saw,  as  he  must 
have  done,  that  my  eyes  were  red  and  swollen,  he 
just  scowled  at  me  across  the  flowers,  and  said  cut- 
tingly that  I  mustn't  go  out  that  evening. 

From  which  I  gathered  that  he  thought  I  did  not 
look  handsome  enough  to  do  justice  to  his  pearls 
and  his  Paris  frocks! 

I  agreed  with  eagerness  that  I  had  better  stay  at 
home,  and  he  went  out  alone  as  soon  as  dinner  was 
over,  while  I  went  to  my  own  sitting-room,  and,  as 
my  head  ached  fearfully,  lay  down  to  rest  a  little 
before  writing  to  Mama. 

I  think  perhaps  I  may  have  dozed  a  short  time, 
but  presently  I  heard  some  whispering  at  the  door, 
and  I  called  out: 

"Who's  that?" 

Nobody  answered,  and  the  whispering  left  off. 
226 


THE  DIARY,  OF  MY,  HONEYMOON 

I  lay  back  again  and  shut  my  eyes,  and  by  and  by 
I  put  out  my  right  hand  to  take  the  smelling-  bottle 
from  a  little  table  beside  me.  But  I  found  no  table 
there,  and  I  screamed  a  little  when  I  found  my  hand 
taken  and  held. 

I  opened  my  eyes  without  speaking  and  found 
myself  looking  into  those  of  Jack. 

In  the  first  moment  I  felt  so  passionately  glad  to 
see  him  that  I  forgot  everything  else,  and  just  gave 
a  sort  of  laugh  and  a  sob  and  said  nothing  at  all. 
And  I  let  him  keep  my  hand  in  his  and  put  his  lips 
to  it  and  then  hold  it  and  caress  it  in  his  hands. 

Then  I  tried  to  draw  it  away. 

"Jack,"  I  said,  "how  did  you  get  in  ?  You  mustn't, 
you  know.  You  must  go  away." 

"Oh,  rot !  You  can't  be  left  to  cry  your  eyes  out 
all  day  long." 

"But  how  did  you  dare  to  come  in  here?" 

"That  dear  old  thing  Dawes  told  me  you  were 
crying  all  by  yourself " 

"I  wasn't." 

"Never  mind.    That  was  what  she  told  me." 

"I  shall  send  her  away.  I  won't  be  spied  upon 
by  my  own  maid — — -" 

"All  right,  all  right.  Just  listen,  will  you,  in- 
227 


THE  'DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

stead  of  flying  into  an  unladylike  rage  when  you're 
spoken  to." 

"But  you  don't  know  these  women  as  well  as  I 
do!  She  has  let  you  come  in,  which  she  had  no 
business  to  do,  and  then  she  will  tell  Sir  Lionel  all 
about  it." 

"Well,  if  she  did,  what  is  there  to  tell  him?" 

I  sat  up. 

"You  don't  understand.  I've  promised  him  not  to 
see  you." 

"What?" 

"At  least,  he  wanted  me  to,  and  I've  given  my 
word  conditionally." 

Jack  looked  much  interested,  not  at  all  offended. 

"By  Jove!"  he  said  thoughtfully.  "And  what 
were  the  conditions?" 

"Oh,  oh,  I  can't  tell  you.  It's  too  disgusting,  too 
humiliating." 

"Oh,  well,  you  know  what  a  common  brute  it  is. 
And  you  needn't  mind  letting  me  know  everything." 

"I  can't,  Jack ;  I  really  can't.  It  would  make  you 
furious." 

"It  makes  me  furious  to  see  the  fellow,  and  to 
know  what  he  has  and  what  lie  misses  having/*  said 
Jack  fervently.  "But  don't  let  us  talk  about  him. 

228 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Tell  me  what's  the  matter?  Why  has  my  poor  dear 
little  Cis  been  crying  her  pretty  blue  eyes  right  into 
her  sweet  little  head  ?" 

He  was  caressing  me  as  if  I  had  been  a  child.  I 
tried  to  laugh  at  his  silly  speech. 

"Jack,  don't  be  so  absurd.  I'm  not  a  little  mite 
of  six  now.  Do  be  serious  and  treat  me  as  the 
grown-up  married  woman  I  now  am." 

"By  Jove,  I  hate  to  think  of  that,  and  I'd  rather 
not  remember  it.  I'd  rather  think  you  are  still  the 
sweet  little  round-eyed  slip  of  a  girl  who  used  to 
run  about  Fouroaks  in  a  holland  pinafore,  and  steal 
into  the  kitchen  garden  to  dig  up  potatoes  when  the 
gardeners  weren't  looking." 

It  nearly  made  me  cry  again  to  think  of  the  old 
days  those  few  words  brought  back  to  me. 

"Look  here,  you  must  go." 

With  a  great  tug  I  got  my  hand  away  from  him, 
and  I  put  up  my  hands  to  my  hair,  which  had 
fallen  loose,  and  I  tried  to  fasten  it  up  into  a 
coil  again. 

Jack  seized  my  hands  and  pulled  them  down  and 
my  hair  with  them.  I  was  rather  shocked,  even 
though  it  was  nice  to  have  him  about  me,  af- 
fectionate, kind,  merry,  sympathetic,  artfd  de- 

229 


THE  DIARY  OF  MK  HONEYMOON 

lightful.  But  I  knew  I  must  be  strict  and  hard 
and  prim,  and  above  all  that  I  must  send  him 
away. 

It  would  be  simply  too  dreadful  if  Dawes  were 
to  tell  Sir  Lionel  he  had  been  here  with  me,  and 
especially  if  she  were  to  come  in  and  find  me  with 
my  hair  down,  and  Jack  laughing  and  pretending 
to  help  me  put  it  up  again ! 

He  was  delighted  with  the  plight  I  was  in,  and 
he  laughed  immoderately  at  my  efforts  to  get  my 
hair  straight  and  to  frown  him  down  at  the  same 
time. 

"Oh,  I'll  go,  I'll  go.  But  I  do  want,  first,  to  see 
what  a  woman  really  does  to  her  hair  when  she  is 
left  to  herself  to  put  it  up!" 

"I  shall  ring  for  Dawes  to  do  it,"  I  said. 

And  I  put  out  my  hand  to  the  little  bell  I  keep 
on  the  table. 

But  he  slapped  his  own  hand  down  upon  mine 
and  laughed  at  me. 

"You  dare!    You  just  dare!"  said  he. 

"D-dare!    What  do  you  mean?"  I  stammered. 

"Why,  that  I  mean  to  have  you  all  to  myself  for 
half  an  hour,  to  comfort  you  and  to  hear  you  tell 
me  your  troubles.  And  that  I  don't  want  Dawes  or 

230 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

anybody  else  to  come  in  till  you've  been  able  to  tell 
me  everything." 

"How  do  you  know  you  can  trust  Dawes  not  to 
tell  Sir  Lionel?  She  may  be  just  a  spy  upon  me, 
like  that  horrid  Hanway." 

"I  don't  think  so.  Ladies'  maids  are  of  two  sorts : 
the  sordid  and  the  sentimental.  The  other  beast  was 
sordid;  this  one,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  sentimental." 
He  bent  forward  to  whisper  in  my  ear,  "She  is  sorry 
for  you,  and  I've  got  round  her." 

I  did  not  quite  like  this.  And  I  remembered  again 
the  pledge  I  had  given,  or  rather,  was  ready  to  give. 
For  my  terrible  talk  with  Sir  Lionel  had  ended  with- 
out our  exchanging  the  definite  promises  he  had 
suggested. 

"Well,  anyhow,  I'm  not  going  to  let  you 
stay  here,  Jack.  And  I  think  you  had  no  right 
to  come.  Maggie  would  think  so  too,  I'm  quite 
sure." 

"Maggie!  What  has  it  got  to  do  with  her?  As 
long  as  Sir  Lionel  will  stand  treat  at  the  smart  res- 
taurants, and  lend  her  money — and  Meltham  money 
— to  play  with  at  the  tables,  she  won't  want  you  to 
quarrel  with  him,  of  course." 

"You  ought  not  to  say  those  things,  and  I  know 
231 


THE  'DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

they're  not  true.    But  I'm  not  going  to  argue.    I'm 
going  to  turn  you  out." 

"No,  you're  not." 

"Yes,  I  am.  Jack,  you'll  be  a  dear,  won't  you, 
and  go  away  when  I  ask  you  to  ?" 

"Of  course  I  will,  if  you  give  me  a  proper  reason." 

"Well,  my  promise  to  Sir  Lionel." 

He  laughed. 

"You  don't  call  that  a  reason,  do  you?" 

"Yes,  of  course  I  do.  It's  impossible  to  have  a 
stronger  one.  I  must  keep  my  word.  I've  prom- 
ised." 

Jack  looked  at  me.  I  wished  he  wouldn't.  For 
the  way  in  which  his  dear,  handsome  eyes  met  mine, 
so  full  of  tenderness  and  kindness  and  fire,  melted 
me  up  until  I  felt  like  wax,  instead  of  the  inflexible 
matron  I  meant  to  be. 

"You  said  your  promise  was  conditional.  Con- 
ditional on  what?" 

I  began  to  tremble  all  over.  I  could  not  begin 
again,  and  go  over  the  whole  of  the  terrible  scene 
I  had  been  through  with  Sir  Lionel.  However,  with 
Jack  I  need  not  be  so  strictly  on  my  guard.  Surely 
I  could  trust  him  to  understand  without  having  it 
all  uttered  in  cold,  hard,  shuddery  words. 

232 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"You  won't  ask  me  to  tell  you  any  more,  will 
you  ?"  I  said  coaxingly.  "You'll  be  content  to  know 
that  I  want  you  to  go,  that  it  breaks  my  heart,  but 
that  I  must  have  you  go." 

"Well,  tell  me  the  condition  on  which  I  am  sent 
into  exile.  You  can  whisper  it." 

He  bent  his  head,  so  that  his  ear  was  close  to  my 
lips,  and  he  looked  so  handsome,  with  his  beautiful, 
regular  Eardington  profile,  that  I  felt  as  if  I  could 
have  taken  his  head  in  my  arms  and  kissed  his  fore- 
head just  where  the  little  curly  tendrils  of  hair  will 
lie,  in  spite  of  all  cutting  and  brushing  in  the  world. 

Instead  of  that  I  was  very  good. 

"How  tiresome  you  are,"  I  said  sharply.  "Why 
can't  you  take  it  for  granted  that  my  reasons  are 
good?" 

"I  never  do  that  with  a  woman." 

I  was  annoyed  by  these  words. 

"I  don't  like  to  be  spoken  of  like  that,  as  if  I  were 
just  a  woman  and  no  more,"  I  said.  "I  heard  too 
much  talk  like  that  this  afternoon." 

My  voice  was  quavering.  Jack  was  sweet,  re- 
morseful, absurd  directly. 

"Did  its  nasty  husband  call  it  a  woman  then?" 
he  cooed  sweetly. 

2233 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Oh,  Jack,  don't  be  silly!     You  must  go." 

"No.  You  needn't  be  afraid.  You  think  Sir 
Lionel  will  come  back  and  find  me  here.  Well,  I 
can  answer  for  it  that  he  won't." 

He  said  this  with  a  certain  significance  which 
made  me  curious. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  I  said. 

Jack  hesitated.    Then  he  said: 

"It's  disgusting  to  have  to  tell  you  about  such 
things,  but  if  you  must  know,  he  was  at  the  station 
when  I  came  away  from  Monte  Carlo,  and  he  met 
a  person  there." 

"What?" 

Jack  nodded. 

"And  he  went  away  with  her  in  a  voiture." 

It  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  keep  back  the 
tears.  So  this  was  the  end  of  our  "stipulations" ! 
It  was  true  we  had  not  definitely  exchanged  our 
promises,  but  it  seemed  to  me  absurd  to  think  he 
was  in  earnest  about  giving  up  Mrs.  Frewen,  when 
he  could  meet  her  and  go  away  with  her  within  a 
few  hours! 

Jack  put  his  hand  on  mine  affectionately. 

"There,  don't  think  about  it.  It's  nothing  new, 
and  so  there  is  no  need  to  worry  yourself.  But  you 

234 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

can  see  that  you  have  nothing  to  reproach  yourself 
with  in  failing  to  keep  promises  made  to  a  fellow  like 
that." 

I  said  nothing.  Indeed,  I  felt  this  very  strongly, 
but  I  did  not  want  to  have  to  admit  it,  and  I  was 
sorry  that  I  had  heard  what  Jack  had  to  tell  me.  I 
saw  in  his  eyes  that  he  felt  his  own  position  to  be 
strengthened,  and  I  knew  that  it  made  it  more  dif- 
ficult for  me  to  be  strict  and  prim  and  stern. 

But  he  did  not  press  his  point  at  first;  he  just 
sat  there,  with  his  hand  on  my  fingers,  while  I  tried 
hard  to  keep  them  from  twitching.  He  did  not  even 
look  me  in  the  face  for  some  time,  not  until  I  took 
my  hand  quietly  away.  I  was  most  anxious  not  to 
appear  afraid  of  him,  but  it  was  because  I  began  to 
feel  fear  very  strongly. 

It  was  evident  he  felt  there  was  no  need  whatever 
to  go  away  now  that  I  knew  all  about  Sir  Lionel's 
meeting  with  Mrs.  Frewen. 

"I  must  do  my  hair,"  I  said  at  last.  And  I  tried 
to  get  up  from  the  sofa.  Jack  tried  to  pull  me  down 
again.  I  stood  for  a  moment  with  his  hands  round 
me,  anxious  not  to  let  him  see  how  frightened  I  was. 
And  all  the  while  I  knew  that  I  was  even  more 
afraid  of  myself  than  I  was  of  him. 

235 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Sit  down,"  said  he  peremptorily. 

By  the  tone  he  was  taking,  I  knew  that  I  must 
show  fight  without  delay. 

"No,  I'm  not  going  to  sit  down  again.  I'm  going 
to  turn  you  out."  • 

"You're  not.    I  won't  go." 

"Nonsense.    You  must." 

He  jumped  up  and  put  his  arm  round  me,  while 
he  took  my  chin  in  his  hand  and  looked  down  into 
my  eyes  with  that  look  which  would  have  made  me 
so  passionately  happy  in  the  old  days  when  I  was 
free. 

Now  it  made  me  shudder.  And  I  struggled  to 
get  away,  not  looking  at  him. 

"Let  me  go,"  I  said  hoarsely. 

"No,  no.  I  won't.  I  can't.  Cis,  you  love  me, 
don't  you,  don't  you?" 

I  shook  my  head,  fighting  with  him. 

"No,  no,  no,  I  don't  love  you,"  I  said.  "I'm 
ashamed  to  find  that  you  are  not  worthy  of  my; 
love." 

"Little  Cis,  don't  say  that.  Do  you  think  I  would 
want  you  to  fail  in  your  duty,  to  break  your  vows  ? 
Do  you  think  I  would  ask  you  to  love  me  if  happi- 
ness were  possible  for  you  in  any  other  way?" 

236 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"I  know  you  have  no  right  to  speak  to  me  like 
this ;  no  right,  no  right,"  I  said.  "You  must  let  me 
go.  You  make  me  hate  you,  hate  you  as  much  as  T 
hate  him." 

"Cis,  you  don't  mean  it.  You  don't  love  him, 
and  you  love  me.  Where's  the  sense,  child,  of  send- 
ing me  away,  of  fighting  with  your  own  heart?  If 
you  were  married  to  a  man  you  could  respect,  even 
if  you  couldn't  love  him,  it  would  be  different.  But 
you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  he's  an  animal,  »i 
brute;  that  to  talk  of  keeping  your  faith  to  him  is 
an  absurdity.  Come,  Cis,  little  Cis,  don't  you  trust 
me?  Don't  you  know  that  I  can  make  you  happy?" 

"No,  no,  no ;  I  won't  hear ;  I  won't  listen." 

"Yes,  you  will.  Don't  be  frightened.  Don't  pre- 
tend to  be  cold,  t  know  better.  Cis,  I  love  you,  I 
love  you.  The  sight  of  you  makes  me  tremble  like 
a  leaf.  I  think  of  you  all  day  long.  I  dream  of  you 
all  night.  Oh,  Cis,  don't  send  me  away.  You 
wouldn't  make  me  unhappy,  would  you  ?" 

With  all  the  love  and  all  the  longing  that  was 
surging  up  in  my  heart,  I  felt  that  it  was  mean  of 
him  to  play  upon  my  feelings  at  such  a  time,  when 
I  was  broken,  heart-sore,  feeling  deserted  and  deso- 
late. And  yet  I  hadn't  the  heart  or  the  strength  to 

237 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

speak  harshly,  firmly;  to  send  him  away  with  in- 
dignant looks  and  flashing  eyes  and  the  airs  of  a 
tragedy  queen. 

I  could  only  try  feebly  to  release  myself,  keeping 
my  head  turned  away  for  fear  he  should  force  my 
lips  to  meet  his  and  my  eyes  to  look  into  his  eyes. 

"It  isn't  right,  it  isn't  right — of  you.    Go  away." 

That  was  all  I  could  say,  and  I  said  it  in  such  a 
silly,  hoarse  whisper,  that  it  was  more  like  the  sniv- 
elling complaint  of  a  tired  child  than  the  outraged 
dignity  of  an  offended  married  woman. 

But  I  think  perhaps  it  was  the  best  way  to  meet 
him,  because  it  made  him  ashamed  to  be  struggling 
with  such  a  feeble  sort  of  a  creature,  and  also  it 
made  him  see  that  I  meant  what  I  said.  If  I  had 
put  on  airs  of  haughty  indignation  he  would  have 
known  that  they  were  only  put  on,  and  he  might 
perhaps  have  beaten  them  down  and  laughed  me  out 
of  them,  and — well,  then,  there  is  no  knowing  what 
might  have  happened,  broken  and  wretched  and  de- 
serted as  I  was. 

As  it  was,  he  seemed  disconcerted,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment he  relaxed  his  hold,  and  I  ran  to  the  door,  just 
turning  to  whisper : 

"Good-bye." 

238 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Then  I  ran  away  to  my  own  room,  and  threw  my- 
self upon  the  bed,  crying  and  sobbing  till  I  couldn't 
see. 

I  must  say  Dawes  was  very  nice  to  me.  I  didn't 
scold  her  about  letting  Jack  in;  I  hadn't  the  heart 
to  scold  anybody  who  was  kind  to  me,  and  it  was 
soothing  to  feel  her  hands  about  my  head  as  she 
did  my  hair,  and  pretended,  like  a  wise  woman,  not 
to  see  that  I  had  been  crying. 

I  suppose  I  ought  to  speak  to  her  about  Jack,  and 
tell  her  I  am  very  angry  that  she  let  him  in.  But 
somehow  I  can't  be,  so  I  have  just  said  nothing 
about  it. 

My  eyes  were  so  sore  with  crying  that  I  couldn't 
see  to  write,  and  I  had  to  leave  my  diary  for  another 
day  unwritten. 

To-day  I  have  had  one  great  pleasure,  a  real  pleas- 
ure without  any  admixture  of  pain,  so  I  am  feeling 
much  better. 

The  day  began  pretty  badly,  however. 

When  I  met  him  for  dejeuner,  Sir  Lionel  looked 
at  me  with  the  blackest  scowl  I  have  been  honoured 
with  from  him  yet.  He  flourished  a  letter  which  had 
come  among  his  correspondence  and  said: 

"Your  people  won't  leave  me  alone;  they  have 
239 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

sent  their  lawyer  after  me  again  about  those  settle- 
ments." 

I  said,  "Oh !"  for  I  could  think  of  nothing  better 
to  say.  And  he  knew  I  didn't  care  a  straw  about 
the  settlements,  so  it  was  of  no  use  to  pretend  that 
the  visit  was  my  fault. 

Indeed,  the  only  thing  I  was  thinking  about  was 
that  I  should  be  able  to  see  Mr.  Calstock  again.  It 
made  my  heart  leap  up,  for  after  the  dreadful  scenes 
I  have  had,  first  with  Sir  Lionel  and  then  with  Jack, 
to  know  that  I  had  a  friend  at  hand  who  liked  me 
in  a  nice  way,  without  any  horrible  side  to  it  all, 
made  me  feel  much  more  at  ease. 

Sir  Lionel  flung  himself  into  a  chair  at  the  table 
and  scowled  at  me  again. 

"I  don't  mean  to  sign  the  documents,"  he  said. 

As  he  expected  me  to  say  something,  I  hunted 
for  a  reply,  and  suddenly  remembered,  what  I  had 
forgotten,  that  I  had  burnt  the  papers  in  Paris. 

I  reminded  him  of  it. 

"So  they're  done  with?"  I  said  wearily. 

"Oh,  no,  they're  not  At  least  they  think  they're 
not.  Calstock  will  come  provided  with  copies,  and 
there  will  be  another  interview  necessary  to  convince 
him  that  he  is  wasting  his  time." 

240 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

''Well/'  I  said,  "I  suppose  you  will  be  able  to 
persuade  him  of  that  to-day  once  for  all." 

He  laughed  and  looked  at  me  spitefully. 

"I  think  so,"  he  said,  with  a  nod.  "The  fact  is, 
I" — he  laughed  again,  and  looked  at  me  with  a  fixed 
stare,  watching  how  I  took  it — "I  made  a  fresh  will 
yesterday." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  I. 

I  was  tired  of  the  whole  sordid  business  of  wills 
and  settlements,  and  money,,  money,  money,  and  I 
hoped  this  would  be  the  last  I  should  hear  of  it  all. 

He  laughed  again. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  know  you  don't  care  for  money, 
while  there  are  others  who  think  something  of  it. 
Those  others  have  more  claim  upon  me  than  a  wife 
who  openly  shows  she  doesn't  like  me.  You  will 
agree  with  that,  I  suppose?" 

I  saw  that  this  was  serious,  and  I  thought  a  little 
before  I  answered  him: 

"I've  always  been  accustomed  to  have  money  mat- 
ters arranged  for  me,  so  that  I  really  don't  know 
much  about  them.  But  if  you  mean  that  you  think 
it  right  that  I  should  be  exposed  to  want  because 
we  haven't  got  on  together  very  well,  I'm  afraid  I 
can't  agree  with  you." 

241 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

He  looked  rather  surprised.  I  had  agreed  to  so 
much  that  he  was  not  prepared  to  find  I  had  spirit 
enough  to  disagree  with  anything. 

For  a  moment  his  eyes  fell  and  he  looked  a  trifle 
disconcerted.  Then  he  laughed  again.  His  laugh 
is  harsh  and  most  unpleasant;  there  is  always  a 
mocking  tone  in  it.  Then  he  said : 

"Oh,  as  to  want,  there's  no  question  of  that.  I 
have  left  you" — again  he  looked  at  me  spitefully — 
"three  hundred  a  year.  Enough,  isn't  it?" 

I  thought  it  was,  and  I  said  so,  and  he  seemed 
disappointed. 

"If  you  had  been  more  companionable,"  he  said 
sharply,  "you  would  have  had  nearly  half  a  million." 

I  said  nothing,  for  if  I  had  spoken  I  should  have 
told  him  truly  that  I  should  be  very  sorry  ever  to 
have  the  responsibility  of  managing  such  a  large 
amount.  He  frowned  at  me,  and  then  said  in  an 
aggressive  tone: 

"The  woman  who  understands  me,  who  loves  me 
for  myself,  will  have  the  control  of  that  sum." 

I  looked  down.  He  did  not  understand  what  T 
felt,  and  he  said,  as  if  he  felt  elated  at  the  thought : 

"That  is  what  a  woman  earns  by  being  content 
to  be — just  a  woman.  Do  you  see?" 

242 


I  was  disgusted  with  all  this.  He  has  a  perfect 
right  to  do  what  he  likes  with  his  money,  but  he  has 
no  right  to  talk  about  these  things  to  me.  I  looked 
up,  with  the  blood  rushing  into  my  face. 

"I  don't  want  to  see  or  hear  any  more  about  it," 
I  said  proudly.  "What  you  do  with  your  money  is 
your  own  affair,  and  I  suppose  you  do  what  seems 
to  you  the  right  thing  with  it.  But  I  do  think  that 
it  is  not  right  of  you  continually  to  try  to  hurt  and 
annoy  me  by  telling  me  these  things,  and  about  other 
women.  Do  as  you  please;  leave  your  money  to 
whom  you  please;  but  keep  it  all  to  yourself.  I 
don't  want  to  hear  any  more  about  it." 

"Oh,  all  right,"  he  muttered.  "I'm  sure  I  have 
no  wish  to  annoy  you.  But  as  your  people  are  al- 
ways worrying  me  about  money,  and  I  don't  choose 
to  discuss  my  affairs  with  them,  I  thought  you  had 
better  know  my  plans,  so  that  you  can  save  me  from 
further  useless  persecution." 

I  caught  at  the  suggestion. 

"Very  well,"  I  said.  "I'll  see  Mr.  Calstock  my- 
self  " 

"There's  no  need  for  you  to  do  that." 

"I'd  rather.  I'll  tell  him  plainly  that  you  have 
told  me  what  you  have  done,  and  about  the  will, 
243 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

that  I'm  perfectly  satisfied,  and  that  I  beg  him  to 
tell  Papa  so,  and  to  tell  him  also  not  to  write  and 
worry  you  about  it  again." 

Sir  Lionel  sat  back,  frowning,  and  looking  as  if 
he  wondered  whether  I  meant  what  I  said. 

At  last  he  said  sulkily : 

"If  you  see  this  lawyer  fellow,  he  will  set  you 
on  to  complain  of  my  provision  for  you,  to  say  it's 
not  enough." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  understand  that  His  point  of  view 
would  be  that  of  my  people,  wouldn't  it?  He  would 
try  to  get  all  he  could,  for  their  sake  and  mine, 
wouldn't  he?" 

"I  suppose  so." 

"Well,  I'm  prepared  for  that,  and  I  can  meet  him 
and  silence  him.  When  once  he  knows  what  my 
own  views  are,  he  can  pass  them  on  to  Papa  and 
Mama.  And  when  they  see  that  I  am  contented, 
in  the  end  they  will  have  to  be." 

"Confound  them,  they  won't  be  content.  I  know 
them." 

"Well,  I  know  them  too.  They  will  have  to  be 
quiet.  You  see  they  must  be  feeling  rather  ashamed 
of  themselves  for  bringing  me  to  this,  and  so  they 
won't  be  able  to  tease  me  any  more." 

244 


THE  'DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  had  broken  down  at  last.  That  I  should  be  in- 
sulted again  by  this  man  to  whom  I  had  been  sold — 
for  he  had  no  right  to  force  the  knowledge  upon 
me  of  what  he  was  doing  for  this  woman — was  too 
much.  I  rose  quickly  from  the  table  and  walked 
towards  the  door.  But  he  tumbled  out  of  his  chair, 
in  the  awkward  sprawling  way  he  has,  and  stopped 
me. 

"If  you  had  behaved  yourself,"  he  growled,  "you 
wouldn't  have  had  to  complain  that  I  had  treated 
you  meanly." 

"We  won't  discuss  it,"  I  said. 

And  I  opened  the  door  in  spite  of  him,  and  wrig- 
gled out  of  the  room. 

I  cried  a  little,  not  at  what  he  had  done,  but  at 
the  brazen  way  in  which  he  had  boasted  of  it  to  me, 
and  then  I  put  all  these  horrid  thoughts  out  of  my 
mind,  and  remembered  only  that  before  the  day  was 
over  I  should  see  my  dear  Mr.  Calstock  again. 

I  watched  from  the  window  and  saw  him  come, 
and  then  I  sent  Dawes  to  lie  in  wait  for  him,  for  I 
was  afraid  that  Sir  Lionel  would  send  him  away 
without  seeing  me  if  he  could. 

Then  I  looked  out  my  prettiest  morning  gown  to 
see  him  in,  and  chose  the  pale  grey  cashmere  with 

'245 


THE  DIARY  OP  MY  HONEYMOON 

the  rose-coloured  velvet  underskirt  and  vest,  and  I 
was  tucking  a  bunch  of  lilies  of  the  valley  into  the 
front  of  it  when  Dawes  opened  the  door  and  an- 
nounced him. 

I  ran  to  meet  him  and  seized  his  hand  and  shook 
it  and  smiled  at  him,  so  pleased  to  see  him  that  at 
first  I  could  scarcely  speak. 

He  was  looking  just  as  grave  and  prim  as  ever, 
with  his  serious  face  and  his  sedate  dark  clothes,  and 
his  pince-nez,  and  he  said,  "How  do  you  do,  Lady 
Cecilia?"  and  shook  hands  with  me  in  such  a  re- 
served manner  that  I  almost  felt  foolish  in  having 
been  so  demonstrative. 

"Aren't  you  glad  to  see  me?"  I  asked,  as  he  sat 
down,  and  I  sat  opposite  to  him  and  looked  earnestly 
into  his  face. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  smile  burst  through  his  reserve 
in  spite  of  himself,  and  then  his  eyes  looked  just  as 
kind  as  ever,  and  that  stern  look  on  his  face,which 
sometimes  frightened  me,  had  disappeared. 

"Why,  of  course  I  am,"  he  said.  And  then  he 
grew  grave  again.  "Though  indeed  I  don't  meet 
you  in  very  pleasant  circumstances." 

"Oh,  do  you  mean  because  you  can't  get  Sir 
Lionel  to  sign  those  horrid  settlements?"  I  said. 

246 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"He  ought  to  sign  them.  It's  infamous  that  he 
should  not.  Indeed,  I  think  that,  by  putting  pressure 
on  him,  we  may  be  able  to  force  him  to  do  the  right 
thing,"  he  said. 

"Then  I  beg  you  won't  do  anything  of  the  kind," 
I  said  quickly. 

He  looked  at  me  as  if  I  had  been  a  baby. 

"Very  well,"  said  he.  "We  will  see  to  it.  You 
needn't  worry  yourself  about  it  in  the  least." 

I  laughed  bitterly. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Calstock,"  I  said,  "you  need  not  be  so 
careful  and  so  nice  with  me.  I'm  not  used  to  deli- 
cacy, I  assure  you.  Sir  Lionel  told  me  bluntly  this 
morning  that  he  has  left  half  a  million  to  a  woman 
— Mrs.  Frewen,  I  suppose,  and  three  hundred  a  year 
to  me." 

"Yes,  I  know.  It's  monstrous.  But  it  shall  be 
altered.  We'll  make  him  alter  it,"  said  Mr.  Cal- 
stock indignantly. 

"I  beg  you  won't  try.  I'm  quite  satisfied,  and  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  I'm  so  miserable  and  so — so  dis- 
gusted with  the  very  name  of  the  money  I  was  sold 
for " 

"Hush,  hush!" 

"Oh,  I  can  say  what  I  think  to  you.    I  begin  to 

'247 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

think,  Mr.  Calstock,  that  you're  the  only  person 
in  the  world  to  whom  I  can  speak  out.  Well,  I'm 
so  shocked  at  the  whole  sordid  business,  that  I 
would  rather  never  hear  anything  more  about  ir, 
and  much,  much  rather  not  have  any  pressure  put 
upon  Sir  Lionel." 

"Surely  you  see  that  it's  not  right  to  behave  as  he 
is  doing?  You  have  committed  no  fault,  and  yet 
he  declines  to  carry  out  his  promises  and  to  com- 
plete settlements  which  he  agreed  to  as  reasonable 
and  fair." 

" Never  mind.  Anything  is  better  than  driving 
him,  pressing  him.  I  won't  have  it  done." 

"But  your  father  will  insist,  and  rightly,  upon 
this  being  done." 

"He  mustn't  insist.  I  have  been  treated  as  a 
cipher  long  enough;  I'm  going  to  have  my  own 
way  now.  This  matter  of  the  settlements  must  be 
dropped.  After  all,  I  suppose  Sir  Lionel  will  live 
for  a  great  many  years :  he  isn't  really  old.  I  hope 
he  will  be  convinced,  long  before  the  end  of  his  life, 
that  I'm  not  the  greedy,  selfish  person  he  seems  to 
think  me;  and  if  he  isn't,  why,  I'd  rather  leave  him 
to  enjoy  his  own  thoughts  of  me  than  have  him 
forced  to  be  fair  against  his  will." 

248 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Well,  we  won't  talk  about  it.  I'm  sorry  that  it 
should  have  been  brought  to  your  notice  at  all." 

"No.  We'll  talk  about  something  pleasanter. 
You  can't  think  how  delighted  I  was  to  hear  that 
I  should  see  you  to-day." 

"It's  very  kind  of  you  to  say  so.  And  yet — I 
think  I'm  rather  sorry  to  hear  it." 

He  was  not  looking  at  me,  but  he  just  raised  his 
head  and  gave  me  one  look  out  of  his  strange  eyes, 
that  can  be  so  hard,  and  then  again  so  kind,  and 
then  he  looked  down  again. 

"Why  are  you  sorry?"  said  I. 

He  frowned  so  much  that  I  thought  for  a  mo- 
ment he  was  going  to  say  something  rather  dispar- 
aging or  unwelcome.  But  then  he  said  in  a  meas- 
ured tone: 

"I  think  you  could  scarcely  be  so  glad  to 
see  a  dry  lawyer  if  you  were  as  happy  as  you 
deserve  to  be." 

A  sob  came  to  my  lips.  I  couldn't  help  it.  Then 
I  said: 

"You  are  not  a  dry  lawyer  to  me,  Mr.  Calstock. 
You  are  a  most  good  and  trusted  friend.  I  always 
feel  with  you  that  you  will  tell  me  the  best  thing 
to  do,  and  that,  even  if  you  didn't,  I  should  know 

249 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

that  I  might  speak  out  freely  to  you,  that  I  had  your 
sympathy  and  your  good  will." 

He  looked  up  at  me  quickly,  and  down  again. 

"That  you  have  indeed,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  suppose  you  understand  how  badly  I 
want  a  friend  whom  I  can  rely  upon,"  I  went  on 
quickly.  "People  who  ought  to  be  my  friends  have 
not  always  proved  worthy.  But  with  you  I  know 
it's  all  right." 

"I  only  wish  there  were  more  to  be  done  to  help 
you  in  your  extremely  trying  position,  Lady  Cecilia." 

His  words  were  dry  enough  and  his  tone  was 
measured,  his  very  look  was  cautious,  all  the  time. 
But  I  felt  more  and  more  that  with  him  there  was 
no  need  to  be  on  my  guard,  that  I  could  trust  him 
completely. 

"I  hope  you  are  not  going  away  at  once,  that  I 
shall  see  you  again?"  I  asked  anxiously. 

"I  shall  be  here  for  a  few  days  on  business,  very 
unpleasant  business,  not  connected  with  you  at  all." 

"Oh,  then  I  shall  see  you  again?" 

Something  in  my  tone  touched  him,  I  think,  for 
as  he  glanced  at  me  again  a  look  of  pain  passed  over 
his  face.  Then  he  seemed  to  get  angry. 

"It's  monstrous  that  you  should  have  to  speak 
250 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

like  that  to  a  comparative  stranger,"  he  said.  "Are 
not  your  friends  kind  to  you  ?  You  have  some  stay- 
ing here,  haven't  you?  The  Melthams  are  your 
cousins.  And  Mr.  Eardington?" 

A  shade  crossed  my  face  when  he  mentioned  Jack, 
and  I  grew  scarlet  as  it  came  into  my  mind  that  he 
might  guess  something  of  the  relations  between 
Jack  and  me. 

"Yes,  Jack  Eardington  and  Lady  Meltham  are 
my  cousins/' 

"You  see  them  sometimes,  don't  you?" 

I  felt  myself  growing  crimson,  for  now  I  was 
sure  that  he  guessed  something. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  see  them  nearly  every  day,"  I  said 
nervously. 

"They  ought  to  be  able  to  do  something  for  you, 
or  don't  they  dare?" 

He  lowered  his  voice  a  little,  and  I  shook  my 
head. 

"She  doesn't  dare,  and  he" — in  spite  of  myself 
I  felt  I  was  growing  redder  at  each  mention  of 
Jack— "he  couldn't  do  any  good  if  he  tried." 

Then  for  the  first  time  Mr.  Calstock  kept  his  eyes 
upon  me.  It  was  as  if  he  read  right  into  my  heart, 
and  I  had  to  look  away,  feeling  that  he  would 

251 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

learn  too  much  if  I  were  to  look  at  him  eye  to 
eye. 

But  when  he  spoke  it  was  to  say : 

"I  hear  you  have  made  a  great  social  success  here, 
Lady  Cecilia.  Every  one  speaks  about  you  in  a 
very  flattering  fashion.  Does  that  give  you  any 
pleasure  ?" 

I  laughed. 

"Not  the  least,"  I  said.  "You  remember  what 
I  looked  like  the  first  time  you  saw  me,  Mr.  Cal- 
stock?" 

"Indeed  I  do." 

"Running  wild,  dressed  anyhow,  all  by  myself 
with  my  pets  and  my  good  people?" 

"Yes,  like  a  little  wild  rose." 

The  words  slipped  out  of  his  determined  mouth 
so  unexpectedly,  and  they  were  so  unlike  the  sort 
of  things  one  was  used  to  hearing  him  say,  that  he 
became  quite  pink  when  he  had  said  them,  and  so, 
I  think,  did  I. 

"Well,  that  is  what  I  like,  to  live  at  my  ease,  not 
to  have  to  dress  up,  but  to  live  quietly,  with  the  feel- 
ing that  everything  and  every  one  round  me  loves 
me.  To  hear  them  congratulate  me  upon  having 
handsome  dresses  and  splendid  jewellery,  and  on 

252 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

living  at  expensive  hotels,  makes  me  laugh;  it's  so 
absurd,  so  different  from  what  I  like." 

He  nodded  without  speaking.  But  I  could  see  his 
pity  and  his  kindness  in  every  line  of  his  clever, 
dark  face,  and  I  liked  him  the  more  that  he  said  so 
little,  and  that  he  tried  to  put  what  he  did  say  into 
such  carefully  guarded  words. 

I  drew  my  chair  nearer  to  the  table  by  which  we 
were  both  sitting,  and  I  leaned  over  it,  looking 
earnestly  at  him. 

"I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  I  must  do  if  things 
grow  quite  too  dreadful  to  be  borne,"  I  said  in  a 
whisper. 

He  looked  startled. 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Well,  I  am  afraid,  considering  what  it  has  been 
like,  that  I  must  prepare  for  life  becoming  impos- 
sible. But  I  think  it  would  be  difficult  for  me  to  get 
away." 

He  looked  at  me  earnestly. 

"You  won't  listen  to  bad  advisers,  will  you?"  he 
said  gently. 

I  felt  that  I  was  growing  very  red. 

"I  hope  I  shan't,"  I  said.  "But  in  any  case  I 
should  like  to  have  your  advice  first.  How  should 

253 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  get  away,  to — to  Papa,  for  instance,  if  I  felt  that 
I  must  go?" 

"Without  Sir  Lionel's  permission  or  knowledge, 
you  mean?" 

"Yes.  He  leaves  me  without  money,  except  for 
a  few  pounds  which  I  wheedled  out  of  him  to  play 
with.  I  haven't  much  of  that  left,  and  he  wanted 
that  back.  I  think  he  likes  to  feel  that  I  am  quite 
dependent  upon  him." 

"That  you  must  not  be.  I  will  give  you  what 
money  you  want,  and  you  can  use  it  in  case  of  emer- 
gencies." 

He  had  taken  out  his  pocket-book,  and  was  count- 
ing out  some  English  sovereigns. 

"But  I  don't  like  to  take  it  from  you,"  I  said. 
"I  don't  know  how  soon  I  may  have  to  spend  it,  or 
how  long  it  may  be  before  I  can  pay  you  back  again." 

"Oh,  I'll  settle  with  Lord  Rushbury." 

I  shook  my  head. 

"Papa  never  has  any  ready  money,"  I  said. 

Mr.  Calstock  smiled. 

"Look  here,"  he  said,  "can't  you  trust  me,  after 
all  your  fine  professions,  sufficiently  to  take  the 
money  and  put  it  by,  and  not  trouble  your  head 
about  who  gave  it  to  you?" 

254 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  looked  him  straight  in  the  face.  I  don't  think 
there  is  another  man  in  the  world  I  should  feel  like 
this  with,  but,  as  he  said,  I  knew  I  could  do  this 
with  him.  I  held  out  my  hand. 

"Yes,  I  can.    Give  it  to  me,"  I  said. 

He  gave  me  twenty  sovereigns,  and  I  put  them 
away,  tying  them  up  in  my  handkerchief  and  tuck- 
ing them  into  the  front  of  my  dress.  Then  he  rose. 
I  sprang  up,  and  all  of  a  sudden  my  composure  gave 
way. 

"Must  you  go?  Must  you  go?  Let  me  know 
where  you  are  staying.  How  long  will  you  be 
here?"  I  panted  out. 

He  looked  at  me  with  so  much  pity  and  grave 
kindness  that  he  made  me  more  sorry  for  myself 
than  I  had  been  before.  I  was  ashamed,  though, 
of  having  brought  that  look  into  his  eyes  when  he 
had  been  so  kind  to  me. 

He  told  me  the  name  of  his  hotel,  and  told  me  to 
write  to  him  there  if  I  thought  he  could  help  me  in 
any  way,  for  he  should  be  there  for  some  days. 
Then  he  bowed  to  me,  and  would  have  gone  out, 
but  I  gave  hitrrmy  hand,  which  he  took  as  if  I  had 
been  a  queen. 

"You  spoil  me  by  your  courtesy  and  consideration, 

255 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Mr.  Calstock,"  I  said.     "I  am  not  used  to  being 
treated  with  any  but  sham  politeness  by  anybody." 

Again  a  look  of  pain  crossed  his  face,  but  all  he 
said  was: 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,  Lady  Cecilia." 

"Your  way  of  treating  me  heals  many  wounds," 
I  said  quickly. 

Then  I  saw  a  vein  swell  up  in  his  dark  face,  but 
it  was  with  righteous  and  noble  anger,  and  not  with 
selfish  passion,  and  he  said  quickly: 

"Lady  Cecilia,  I  had  better  not  say  any  more.  I  am 
only  here  on  Lord  Rushbury's  business,  and  I  want 
to  keep  a  strictly  professional  attitude.  But  if  it  is 
any  comfort  to  you  to  know  it,  when  I  get  back  to 
my  hotel  I  shall  use — language  which  no  lady  could 
hear." 

And  without  another  word  he  disappeared  quickly 
out  of  the  room. 

But  oh,  what  a  comfort  it  is  to  me  to  have  him 
for  a  friend !  Even  if  he  can  do  nothing  for  me,  I 
feel  that  it  is  good,  among  so  many  disappointments, 
to  know  that  men  are  sometimes  like  him,  honour- 
able and  unselfish  and  kind,  without  being  too  kind. 
It  just  saves  me  from  thinking  that  the  whole  world 
is  hideous  and  bad! 

256 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  have  been  almost  happy  for  the  rest  of  the  day, 
and  Sir  Lionel,  I  am  sure,  must  have  wondered  at 
the  change  in  me,  without,  I  know,  guessing  the 
cause. 

But  the  way  he  speaks  of  Mr.  Calstock,  who  is  so 
much  better  bred  than  he,  as  "that  lawyer  fellow'* 
makes  me  hate  him  more  than  ever. 


257 


,  April  i$th. 

I  HAVE  been  ill,  and  everything  that  has  happened 
since  that  day  seems  to  have  passed  in  a  dream.  I 
have  to  look  at  my  calendar  to  see  where  I  am,  and 
how  long  I  have  lived  since  then. 

I  find  it  was  March  the  twenty-ninth. 

On  the  morning  of  that  day  I  little  guessed  what 
was  to  happen  before  it  had  ended. 

I  began  it  rather  happily,  with  the  feeling  that  I 
had  a  friend  at  hand  to  go  to  in  case  of  need.  I 
dare  say  it  was  this  knowledge  that  made  me  look 
brighter  than  I  had  done  for  some  time,  so  that 
when  I  met  Sir  Lionel,  instead  of  being,  as  he  ex- 
pected, red-eyed  and  miserable,  as  I  had  been  the 
day  before,  I  was  smiling  and  in  good  spirits. 

He  had  been  very  disagreeable  since  the  visit  of 
Mr.  Calstock,  and  always  ready  to  gibe  at  my  people, 
and  to  say  things  that  rubbed  me  up  the  wrong  way. 

But  I  had  got  used  to  that,  and  not  even  his  ref- 
erences to  the  will  he  had  just  made  and  the  disap- 

258 


pointment  of  greedy  people  drew  any  comment  from 
me. 

It  was  arranged  that  we  should  go  to  Mentone 
to  lunch  with  some  friends  of  Sir  Lionel's,  so  we 
started  soon  after  eleven.  I  was  wearing  a  simple 
dress  of  embroidered  white  linen,  with  a  big  black 
hat,  and  Sir  Lionel  was  angry  with  me  because  I 
would  not  put  on  something  more  elaborate.  But 
it  was  too  early  to  be  dressed  up,  so  I  had  to  risk 
offending  him.  Indeed,  I  did  not  feel  quite  so  sub- 
missive as  I  had  done  before.  Now  that  he  had, 
as  it  were,  thrown  me  over  and  decided  to  go  his 
own  way  without  making  any  terms  with  me,  I  was 
not  so  much  inclined  to  be  submissive  and  humble. 

However,  before  we  got  to  Mentone,  travelling 
in  a  big  motor-car  which  Sir  Lionel  informed  me 
he  had  just  bought,  he  began  to  be  less  sulky,  and 
soon  quite  complimentary  again.  And  he  stopped 
at  a  florist's,  and  brought  me  a  great  bunch  of  roses 
of  all  colours,  which  he  insisted  upon  pinning  into 
my  dress. 

When  I  objected  that  I  had  nothing  to  fasten  them 
in  with,  he  stopped  at  a  jeweller's,  and  bought  me 
a  huge  safety-pin  with  diamonds  and  a  large  em- 
erald, and  made  me  pin  the  flowers  in  with  that. 

259 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

When  we  got  to  Mentone,  we  found  his  friends 
at  an  hotel,  and  they  proved  to  be  people  of  the  same 
type  as  himself,  and  not  very  sympathetic  to  me. 
The  husband  was  a  middle-aged  man,  who  might 
have  been  Sir  Lionel's  brother,  and  his  wife  was  a 
rather  overblown  woman,  much  taller  than  himself, 
who  had  been  very  handsome,  and  who  made  up  for 
increasing  age  by  increasing  juvenility  of  dress. 

We  lunched  at  a  restaurant  where  there  were  a 
great  many  well-dressed  people,  and  we  met  Maggie 
and  her  husband,  and  some  friends  of  theirs. 

Once  more  I  had  the  wretched  satisfaction  of  hav- 
ing a  sort  of  little  court  round  me,  and,  as  before,  as 
soon  as  Sir  Lionel  saw  me  admired  by  other  people, 
his  own  admiration,  such  as  it  was,  for  me,  seemed 
to  return. 

W'e  had  a  long  day,  for  we  had  to  watch  a  tennis 
match,  which  I  should  have  enjoyed  if  I  had  been 
with  just  one  person  whom  I  liked  very  much. 
There  was  a  young  German  prince  on  the  ground, 
who  asked  to  be  introduced  to  me,  and  this  made 
Sir  Lionel  very  pleased.  When  we  got  back  to  Nice 
he  was  again  in  one  of  those  moods  of  his  which  I 
found  the  most  difficult  to  bear,  alternately  paying 
me  outrageous  compliments  and  gibing  at  me  for 

260 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

my  coldness,  and  then  again  saying  how  proud  he 
had  felt  of  me  that  afternoon. 

We  had  to  dress  quickly  when  we  got  back,  to 
dine  with  some  more  people  we  knew  at  an  hotel 
at  Monte  Carlo. 

Sir  Lionel  asked  me  what  I  meant  to  wear,  and 
insisted  on  having  all  my  dresses  spread  out  for  him 
to  choose  one  for  me. 

When  I  stood  by  him,  uncomfortable  and  con- 
strained, as  Dawes  carried  them  past  one  after  an- 
other, Sir  Lionel  was  very  gracious  and  good- 
humoured,  and  kept  appealing  to  me  for  my  opinion 
of  the  dresses.  I  didn't  care  two  straws  which  I 
wore,  and  I  found  it  difficult  to  show  the  interest 
he  expected  in  the  matter. 

At  last  he  chose  a  black  dress  glittering  all  over 
with  jet,  and  said  I  was  to  wear  that  and  to  have  my 
pearls  round  my  neck  and  emeralds  in  my  hat  and 
on  my  dress. 

I  can't  bear  emeralds,  because  they  always  seem 
to  me  to  be  too  deep  in  colour,  and  to  look  common 
and  hard.  But  I  said  nothing,  of  course,  and  I 
dressed  in  obedience  to  orders. 

When  I  was  dressed  and  had  my  cloak  on  I  went 
into  the  sitting-room,  where  Sir  Lionel  was  waiting 

261 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

for  me,  and  he  asked  me  to  throw  the  cloak  off  and 
to  let  him  see  the  effect  of  the  jewels  and  of  the 
dress. 

He  seemed  to  be  very  much  pleased,  and  he  hung 
about  me  and  rearranged  my  jewels,  and  then  he 
took  up  my  cloak  and  wrapped  me  in  it  with  as  much 
care  and  tenderness  as  if  he  had  been  the  most  de- 
voted of  husbands.  But  he  spoilt  it  all  by  saying : 

"You  will  cut  out  every  woman  in  the  casino  to- 
night, even  the  Paris  beauties." 

I  did  not  want  to  cut  anybody  out,  and  I  did  not 
look  pleased.  So  he  began  gibing  again  at  my  high- 
bred coldness,  and  we  started  on  the  usual  uncom- 
fortable terms. 

But  at  the  hotel  where  we  were  dining  the  Ger- 
man prince  met  us  again,  and  showed  so  much  anx- 
iety to  improve  the  acquaintance  that  Sir  Lionel  be- 
came proud  of  me  again,  and  when  we  went  to  the 
casino  afterwards  with  a  party  of  half  a  dozen  peo- 
ple he  was  again  full  of  attentions  for  me. 

At  the  casino  almost  the  first  person  I  saw  was 
Mrs.  Frewen,  magnificently  dressed,  and  wearing  a 
splendid  diamond  necklace.  She  nodded  to  Sir  Li- 
onel, who  pretended  not  to  see  her,  and  I  saw  the 
expression  of  her  face  change  as  he  continued  to  talk 

262 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

to  me,  keeping  close  to  my  side  with  all  the  airs  of 
a  devoted  husband. 

I  knew  quite  well  that  it  only  meant  he  was  flat- 
tered at  the  attentions  which  had  been  paid  me  by 
other  people  during  the  day,  and  especially  by  the 
Prince.     But  I  could  see  that  Mrs.  Frewen  was 
fiercely  jealous.     And  presently,  while  Sir  Lionel 
was  taking  me  through  the  rooms  on  his  arm,  show- 
ing me  off,  as  I  felt,  to  my  disgust,  and  particularly 
showing  off  the  pearls  round  my  neck  and  the  dia- 
monds and  emeralds  on  my  dress,  she  came  up  to 
him,  and  putting  herself  deliberately  in  front  of 
him,  so  that  we  both  had  to  stop,  she  said : 
"I  want  to  speak  to  you,  Lai." 
He  was  annoyed,  and  he  said  quickly : 
"Not  now.    Another  time,  another  time." 
But  I  slipped  my  hand  out  of  his  arm,  and  turn-- 
ing, joined  the  rest  of  the  party  we  had  come  with, 
leaving  him  with  her. 

There  was  a  sort  of  murmur  of  indignation  at  the 
way  in  which  I  was  being  treated,  for  every  one 
knew  Mrs.  Frewen,  and  indeed  she  was  so  very 
conspicuous  that  evening,  with  her  very  yellow  hair 
and  pink  face,  and  the  splendid  dress  and  blazing 
jewels  she  was  wearing,  that  she  was  being  watched 

263 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

as  she  walked  about,  and  nothing  she  did  could  re- 
main unnoticed. 

To  have  this  horrid  scandal  thrust  upon  my  notice 
like  this  before  everybody,  to  have  this  woman 
openly  showing  jealousy  of  me  merely  because  my 
husband  was  showing  me  ordinary  attention,  was 
so  horrible  and  so  humiliating  that  I  could  have 
cried. 

But  I  did  not  shed  any  tears.  Jack,  however, 
who  was  in  the  room,  although  he  was  not  of  our 
party,  said  afterwards  that  I  was  as  white  as  a  sheet 
when  I  rejoined  my  friends. 

I  was  determined  not  to  be  subjected  to  another 
meeting  of  that  sort,  and  after  I  had  remained  with 
these  acquaintances  for  a  short  time  I  sent  someone 
to  find  Maggie,  who  was  in  the  rooms,  and  to  ask 
her  to  come  to  me. 

She  and  Jack  came  up  together,  and  I  told  them 
that  I  was  so  tired  after  the  long  day  I  had  had 
that  I  wanted  to  go  back  to  Nice  at  once. 

"I  don't  want  to  spoil  Sir  Lionel's  evening,"  I 
said,  "so  don't  tell  him.  But  you,  Jack,  can  let  him 
know  presently  that  I  have  gone  home  with  Mag- 
gie." 

Jack  wanted  to  go  with  us,  but  I  would  not  let 
264 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

him.  Maggie,  who  had  not  seen  the  meeting  witli 
Mrs.  Frewen,  had  heard  something  about  it,  and  of 
course  wanted  to  know  more.  But  I  would  not  tell 
her.  I  was  afraid  of  breaking  down  again  into  silly 
crying.  And  where  was  the  use?  It  was  not  new  to 
be  treated  like  that,  only  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  in- 
sulting behaviour  of  Sir  Lionel's  friends  was  grow- 
ing more  open. 

Maggie  was  very  indignant,  and  said  that  in  the 
morning  she  and  Hugh  would  come  over  to  Nice  and 
give  Sir  Lionel  such  a  talking  to  as  he  had  never 
had  before. 

I  did  not  put  much  faith  in  the  result  of  this,  but 
I  thanked  her  for  her  good  intentions,  and  told  her 
not  to  tell  anybody  about  it,  as  I  felt  that,  when 
things  had  gone  so  far,  something  would  have  to 
happen  to  put  an  end  to  the  possibility  of  such  an 
incident  occurring  again. 

When  we  got  to  my  hotel  she  wanted  to  stay  with 
me,  but  I  told  her  I  was  quite  well,  and  would  rather 
be  left  to  myself.  While  we  were  coming  in  the 
train,  indeed,  I  had  been  making  up  my  mind  to 
something.  And  when  I  thanked  her  for  coming 
with  me  and  bade  her  good-bye,  I  went  straight  to 
my  writing-case  and  began  a  letter  to  Mr.  Calstock. 

265 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  had  written  about  six  lines,  telling  him  of  what 
had  happened,  when  I  felt  my  hand  seized;  and 
looking  up,  I  saw  that  Jack  was  behind  me.  He 
took  the  pen  out  of  my  hand. 

"Who  are  you  writing  to,  my  darling?"  he  said. 

I  could  only  stammer: 

"Jack!    You!    You  shouldn't  have  come!" 

But  he  had  his  arms  round  me,  and  was  looking 
at  me  with  eyes  full  of  passion. 

"You  were  writing  to  me,  weren't  you  ?"  he  asked. 

And  as  he  spoke  he  took  my  right  hand  and  held 
it  to  his  lips. 

I  shook  my  head. 

"No,"  I  said,  "I  was  not  writing  to  you.  Why 
have  you  come?" 

"Surely  you  needn't  ask.  When  that  scoundrel 
insulted  you  like  that  to-night,  I  couldn't  rest  till 
I'd  seen  you  to  tell  you  what  I  felt.  But  you  knew 
without  my  telling  you,  didn't  you,  Cis?" 

I  nodded. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  I  took  it  for  granted  you  would 
think  what  everybody  else  thinks." 

"You  can  never  expose  yourself  to  such  treatment 
again,  Cis.  You  must  come  to  an  understanding 
with  him." 

266 


THE  DIARY  Of  MY 

"Oh,  understandings  are  of  no  use,"  I  said. 

I  was  speaking  quite  calmly,  and  I  had  taken  my 
hand  away  from  him  with  such  unexpected  firm- 
ness that  Jack  sat  down  on  the  floor  at  my  feet  in 
humble  surprise. 

"By  Jove,  how  coolly  you  take  it !  I  admire  you, 
Cis,  as  I  never  did  before." 

"Well,  what  could  I  do?  We  didn't  want  a 
scene." 

"Eberhard  will  be  cut  by  every  decent  man  on 
the  Riviera  after  this.  You  will  have  to  dissociate 
yourself  from  him  altogether." 

"I  mean  to." 

I  turned  to  my  letter  again,  and  taking  up  the  pen 
which  Jack  had  thrown  down,  tried  to  go  on  writing. 
Then  I  felt  his  arm  round  me  once  more. 

"Cis,  don't  be  so  calm.  It  frightens  one.  You 
seem  like  a  statue,  not  a  woman.  What  are  you 
thinking?" 

"I'm  thinking,"  I  said,  "that  I  can't  go  on  with 
this  life,  and  that  I  must  break  it  up  of  my  own 
accord." 

"Bravo!" 

"I'm  going  to  run  away." 

He  seemed  rather  taken  aback. 
267 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"I  wouldn't  do  anything  so  irrevocable  as  that, 
Cis,"  he  said  gently,  "without  advice." 

I  turned  to  look  him  steadily  in  the  face. 

"Do  you  really  think,  after  this,  that  I  can  go  on 
as  before,  that  I  can  risk  more  meetings  of  that  sort, 
more  insults,  more  humiliations?" 

"No,  no,  of  course  not.  But  I  should  strongly 
advise  you  not  to  take  any  step  without  letting  your 
relations  see  Eberhard  and  tell  him  the  sensation 
his  conduct  has  created,  and " 

"Nonsense,"  I  said  sharply.  "We  have  got  be- 
yond consultations  and  family  picnics  on  my  account 
now.  It  is  not  that  I  feel  much  more  humiliated 
than  I've  done  already,  and  I  can  see  that  what 
happened  to-night  was  not  his  fault,  but  the  woman's. 
But  I  do  feel  that  at  last  it  is  of  no  use  to  go  on. 
It  has  gone  beyond  insult  to  me :  it  has  become  in- 
sulting to  all  my  family  to  be  treated  like  this.  That 
is  how  I  feel  it." 

"By  Jove,  you're  right!" 

"So  I'm  going  to  make  an  end  of  it." 

"How?" 

I  turned  round  in  my  chair,  pushed  him  away 
from  me,  and  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes. 

"Jack,"  said  I,  "do  you  really  love  me?" 
268 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Cis,  is  it  necessary  to  ask  me  that?" 

"I  mean,  are  you  ready  to  give  up  something  for 
me?" 

"Now  you  know  I  would  give  up  anything,  every- 
thing. Unluckily,  I've  got  nothing  to  give  up." 

"Well,  nor  have  I.  At  least,  what  I  give 
up  is  not  worth  keeping.  So  we're  even  to 
start  with." 

Jack  looked  puzzled. 

"What  do  you  mean?  There  is  a  world  of  dif- 
ference between  your  position  and  mine  to  start 
with." 

"Well,  we  won't  argue  that.  What  I'm  going 
to  give  up  isn't  worth  keeping.  And  you  say  you 
have  nothing  worth  keeping  either.  And  you  say 
that  you  love  me." 

"Cis,  you  know  I  do." 

"Very  well.    Then  will  you  run  away  with  me?" 

He  was  taken  aback.  He  had  got  upon  his  knees 
and  put  his  arm  round  me  again.  He  seemed  to 
stiffen  with  it  round  me,  and  for  a  moment  we  said 
nothing. 

Then  he  said  softly: 

"Cis,  you  don't  mean  it.    You're  too  good  a  girl." 

To  his  surprise  I  flung  him  suddenly  away  from 
269 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

me,  and  stood  up,  laughing  so  immoderately  that 
I  was  scarcely  able  to  stand. 

"I'm  too  good,  too  good,  oh,  my  God!  After 
the  night  before  last,  and  what  you  wanted  of  me, 
you  find  I  am  too  good  to  be  helped,  to  be  saved 
from  the  life  I'm  leading." 

I  suppose  I  was  hysterical,  for  I  was  laughing 
and  crying  both  together,  until  the  sobs  that 
came  to  my  lips  seemed  to  be  strangling  me, 
and  the  very  sounds  I  was  uttering  seemed  to 
be  so  harsh,  so  discordant,  that  they  froze  my 
blood. 

"I'm  too  good!  He  says  I'm  too  good!  Ah, 
Jack,  I  understand.  You  were  ready  enough  to 
help  me  to  deceive  my  husband,  ready  enough  to 
come  and  tell  me  how  great  your  love  was.  But 
when  I  ask  you  to  prove  it,  to  save  me,  to  take  me 
away  from  all  this  humiliation  and  misery,  then  you 
make  excuses,  you  find  difficulties.  You — you  are 
a  coward,  Jack!" 

And  as  I  spoke,  I  leaned  down  and  hissed  the 
last  words  at  him.  I  was  too  much  excited  to  keep 
still  or  to  keep  silent  And  when  I  finished  speaking 
I  burst  into  fresh  sobs,  into  more  discordant,  hor- 
rible laughter. 

270 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Jack  had  risen  to  his  feet.  He  was  very  white 
and  much  distressed,  but  he  kept  his  head. 

"Cis,  I  can't,"  he  said  hoarsely.  "We  should  have 
nothing.  How  can  you  be  willing  to  go  away  with 
me  when  you  wouldn't  even  kiss  me?" 

I  made  a  gesture  of  disgust,  as  if  brushing  him 
out  of  the  way  with  his  excuses,  his  caution. 

"I  see,"  I  said;  "you  were  willing  that  I  should 
deceive  my  husband,  but  not  willing  to  help  me  to 
be  happy." 

"Cis,  one  can't  be  happy  without  money." 

"Money,  money,  money!"  I  almost  shrieked. 
"It's  always  the  same  hideous  cry.  Money,  money, 
money!  I  don't  care  for  money.  I  don't  want  it. 
I  want  to  be  loved.  I  want  to  have  someone  to  care 
for,  to  trust  to,  someone  who  will  not  wound  me  and 
bruise  me  at  every  turn.  I  thought  you  cared  for 
me  enough  to  be  that,  to  love  me  like  that,  to  wait 
till  I  could  get  free  and  then  to  marry  me  and  make 
me  happy.  I  am  ready  to  give  up  all  these  horrible 
things  they  sold  me  for.  I  should  have  thought  you 
might  do  the  same.  And  to  find  that  your  love  meant 
only  that  you  were  ready  to  dishonour  me,  and  not 
to  help  me,  to  save  me.  Oh,  it's  disenchantment,  it's 
— it's  despair." 

271 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  was  so  much  excited  that  I  frightened  him,  and 
he  tried  to  soothe  and  calm  me.  He  tried  to  assure 
me  that  it  was  because  his  love  for  me  was  so 
"strong,  so  noble,"  that  he  could  not  expose  me  to 
disgrace  and  poverty. 

But  I  laughed  at  him,  for  I  understood. 

I  saw  through  him,  my  old  Jack,  as  I  used  to  call 
him,  whom  I  had  trusted  and  believed  in  even  when 
he  wanted  to  make  me  do  wrong. 

I  saw  how  selfish  he  was,  and  that  it  was  not  no- 
bility, not  devotion,  that  made  him  unwilling  to  take 
me  away.  It  was  the  fear  of  poverty,  the  fear  that 
we  should  be  badly  off,  that  made  him  hang  back 
and  refuse. 

He  tried  hard  to  show  me  how  unselfish  his  love 
was,  but  remembering  the  scene  of  two  nights  be- 
fore, I  could  not  believe  him.  I  listened,  sobbing 
quietly,  while  he  urged  me  to  let  him  and  Hugh  and 
Maggie  call  upon  Sir  Lionel,  and  talk  to  him,  and 
insist  upon  my  having  a  separate  establishment  and 
a  handsome  allowance,  and  upon  being  free  to  lead 
my  own  life  in  my  own  way. 

But  I  was  disgusted.  Through  it  all  I  could  hear 
the  same  old  parrot-cry,  "Money,  money,  money!" 
I  was  to  have  a  "handsome  allowance."  Ah,  there 

272 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

was  the  important  point.  I  was  to  be  free  to  spend 
my  own  money,  in  my  own  way,  with  my  own 
friends. 

Perhaps  I  was  unjust,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that 
Jack  was  suggesting  the  plan  which  would  suit  him 
best.  It  seemed  to  me  that  it  was  for  him  and  not 
for  me  that  he  was  proposing  a  pleasant  plan  of 
settlement. 

I  did  not  say  so,  but  I  listened  so  stiffly,  in  such 
a  rigid  way,  that  he  presently  broke  off,  and  said 
that  I  was  foolish  and  unreasonable,  and  that  it  was 
impossible  to  do  anything  for  me  if  I  would  not 
lend  myself  to  any  suggestion  for  my  good. 

When  he  swung  away  from  me,  saying  that,  I 
leaned  back  in  my  chair,  and  said  quietly: 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  am  impossible,  Jack.  But  I 
know  you  will  forgive  me.  I've  been  put  into  an 
impossible  position.  Will  you  take  a  letter  to  the 
post  for  me?" 

He  turned  slowly  and  sullenly. 

"A  letter!    Who  to?" 

His  tone  was  that  of  a  jealous  man. 

"It's  to  my  father's  solicitor." 

He  looked  rather  startled. 

"Are  you  going  to  law  then?  Not  going  to  try 
273 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

an  amicable  settlement  first  ?    You  would  gain  more 
by  that." 

I  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"I  don't  want  to  gain  more.    Will  you  post  it?" 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so." 

I  finished  my  note  to  Mr.  Calstock  very  quickly, 
only  telling  him  that  I  wanted  him  to  come  and  see 
me  as  early  as  possible  on  the  following  morning. 
My  hand  was  shaking  so  much  that  I  could  scarcely 
write  legibly,  but  at  last  I  managed  to  sign  my  name 
in  a  scrawly  fashion,  and  fastening  the  envelope,  1 
gave  the  letter  to  Jack,  and  held  out  my  hand  to 
him. 

"Good  night,  and  thank  you,  Jack,"  I  said. 

He  gave  me  one  look,  imploring,  anxious,  per- 
plexed. But  I  was  tired  out  with  emotion,  and  I 
looked,  I  dare  say,  as  if  I  could  feel  nothing.  So  he 
took  my  hand,  and  pressed  it  hard  in  his,  but  did 
not  dare  to  ask  for  so  much  as  a  kiss. 

"Good  night,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "God  bless 
you." 

And  he  went  out. 

I  heard  a  motor-car  drive  up  as  he  went  down  the 
corridor,  but  it  did  not  occur  to  me  to  connect  it- 
with  Sir  Lionel. 

274 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  fell,  shaking  and  feeling  faint,  into  a  chair,  and 
putting  my  hands  up  to  my  face,  found  that  it  was 
quite  wet  and  cold. 

I  had  had  another  disappointment,  another  blow. 
Jack  had  proved  a  broken  reed.  It  made  me  shud- 
der to  think  of  the  danger  I  had  been  in  but  a  couple 
of  evenings  ago,  from  a  man  who  cared  so  little  for 
me  after  all. 

But  there  was  still  Mr.  Calstock.  And  I  knew 
that  I  could  trust  him  as  I  could  myself. 

But  I  felt  shaken,  bruised,  after  my  interview  with 
Jack,  and  when  the  door  of  the  sitting-room  opened, 
and  Sir  Lionel  came  in,  I  was  so  sick  with  the  hor- 
ror of  all  I  had  gone  through  that  I  felt  I  could  bear 
no  more,  so  I  sprang  up  from  my  chair  with  a  cry, 
and  ran  for  the  door  as  if  I  had  seen  a  ghost. 

I  think  when  he  first  came  in,  though  he  had  tried 
to  put  on  a  jaunty  sort  of  air,  Sir  Lionel  felt  ashamed 
of  himself  and  would  have  been  ready  to  be  humble. 
I  hope  so. 

But  when  he  heard  me  cry  out,  and  saw  me  fly 
like  that,  he  became  suddenly  fierce  and  angry  and 
irritable  and  savage,  and  he  sprang  after  me,  and 
seized  my  long  jetted  net  draperies,  so  that  they 
came  away  in  his  hands. 


THE  DIARY  OR  MY.  HONEYMOON 

"D n,"  he  said. 

But  he  still  held  fast  to  the  trails  of  torn  material, 
and  I  could  not  at  once  break  away.  He  twisted 
them  up  in  his  hands  till  I  was  caught,  and  staring 
into  my  face,  he  said  roughly: 

"What  are  you  running  away  for  ?  You  have  got 
to  stay  and  listen  to  me." 

"No,"  I  said.  "Not  to-night.  I  will  hear  you  in 
the  morning.  But  not  now." 

"You  will  hear  me  now,"  he  said. 

And  he  flung  me  into  a  chair  so  that  I  only  just 
escaped  falling  to  the  floor. 

"It  was  not  my  fault.  You  know  what  I  mean. 
What  took  place  this  evening.  I'm  sorry,  but 
it  could  not  be  helped.  You  will  have  to  look 
over  it." 

I  said  nothing.  I  was  determined  not  to  have  any 
further  argument  with  him.  There  was  nothing  I 
could  say  that  would  have  any  effect  except  to  irri- 
tate him,  and  I  did  not  want  to  quarrel;  I  wanted 
to  leave  everything  as  it  was  until  I  had  consulted 
Mr.  Cal stock. 

As  to  overlooking  what  had  happened,  I  knew 
that  it  was  of  no  use.  Since  he  had  allowed  it  to  be- 
come an  open  scandal,  there  was  no  hope  that  I 

276 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

could  get  any  relief  except  by  separation.  But 
that  would  be  better  arranged  by  my  friends 
than  by  me. 

I  felt  much  too  helpless  and  weak  against  him  to 
try  to  settle  things  by  myself. 

He  came  to  me,  and  plunging  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  stood  over  me. 

"Come  now,"  he  said,  "it's  the  last  time  you  shall 
have  anything  to  complain  of." 

For  a  moment  a  horrid  fear  seized  me  by  the 
throat.  We  were  past  the  time  when  I  could  have 
made  it  up  with  him,  and  yet  I  feared  that  was  what 
he  was  going  to  propose.  I  thought  he  was  going 
to  tell  me  that  he  had  given  the  woman  up  since  her 
insulting  behaviour  to  me.  In  that  case  he  would 
want  me  to  be  reconciled,  entirely  reconciled,  and  I 
felt  that  such  a  reconciliation  was  now  impossible  to 
me.  I  could  not  like  him,  believe  in  him,  or  trust 
in  him. 

"I  complain  of  nothing,"  I  said.  "Don't  ask  me 
anything  more  to-night,  please." 

I  got  up  from  the  chair,  anjd  went  quickly  towards 
the  door.  But  he  got  there  first,  and  he  stood  with 
his  back  to  it,  and  he  burst  into  loud  laughter  in  my 
face  as  I  reached  him  and  staggered  back  a  step. 

277 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  stood  paralysed,  as  he  laughed  on  and  then 
stopped  suddenly. 

"Drop  that,  please,"  he  said  with  sudden  savagery. 
"Drop  that  high  and  mighty  tone  with  me.  You 
can't  keep  it  up,  you  know.  You  have  no  right. 
You  are  no  better  than  I  am,  for  all  your  high  breed- 
ing and  your  airs  of  virtue.  You  have  just  said 
good  night  to  your  lover." 

I  was  not  even  startled.  I  was  past  caring  what 
he  thought  or  what  he  knew. 

"I  have  not,"  I  said  quietly.    "I  have  no  lover." 

"That's  a  d d  lie,"  he  said,  stamping  on  the 

floor.  "Do  you  suppose  I  have  no  eyes  in  my 
head  ?  Look  at  the  state  of  your  hair.  Look  at  your 
crushed  flowers.  Besides,  I  met  the  sweep  outside 
the  door,  and  I  know,  from  his  manner,  that  he 
had  come  from  you,  and  that  you " 

I  put  out  my  hand. 

"Stop,"  I  said.  "Since  you  know  that,  you  shall 
know  all.  It's  true  I've  had  my  cousin  here,  and 
it's  true  he  was  ready  to  be  my  lover." 

"Oh,  you  admit  that,  do  you?    You " 

I  cut  him  short. 

"Where  is  the  harm  of  admitting  that  other  men 
are  like  yourself,  ready  to  bestow  what  they  call 

278 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

love  on  any  women  except  those  they  have  sworn  to 
take  care  of?" 

He  seemed  taken  aback  by  these  words,  and  he 
stared  at  me,  as  if  wondering  what  was  coming 
next. 

"Well,"  he  said  at  last,  "I  want  no  sermons." 

"I'm  not  going  to  preach." 

"I  should  think  not,"  he  sneered.  "After  your 
behaviour!" 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  my  behaviour 
yet,"  I  said.  "But  I'm  going  to  tell  you  all  about 
it.  Jack  Eardington  is  not  my  lover,  never  has 
been,  never  wilt  be.  But  I  wanted  him  to  be;  I 
wanted  him  to  be  more  than  that." 

Sir  Lionel  was  taken  by  surprise,  and  I  saw  that 
all  his  professed  doubts  of  me  had  been  a  sham. 
He  had  never  for  a  moment  thought  me  false 
to  my  wretched  vows.  Probably  he  despised 
me  as  incapable  of  feeling  enough  to  be  so,  but 
anyhow  that  he  had  believed  me  steadfast  I  saw 
at  once. 

"What!"  he  stammered. 

I  went  on,  clasping  my  clammy  hands  and  staring 
at  him,  breathing  noisily. 

"I  wanted  him  to  run  away  with  me." 
2/9 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

I  saw  the  glistening  sweat  on  his  forehead. 

"You — you  did,  you !" 

"Yes.  If  he  had  been  willing  to  take  me,  I  should 
have  been  out  of  the  hotel  by  this  time." 

"I  don't  believe  it.    You  are  not  such  a  fool." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  was  a  fool.  It  was  he  who  was  not  a 
fool.  He  wouldn't  take  me.  It  is  he  you  have  to 
thank,  not  me,  that  you  have  not  got  a  fresh  scandal 
to  meet." 

"Well,  it's  lucky  for  you  it  went  no  further.  For 
I  should  never  have  divorced  you.  I  should  have 

left  you  to  bear  the  punishment  of  your  own  d d 

folly." 

It  was  my  turn  to  laugh. 

"Punishment !"  I  cried.  "How  could  you  punish 
me  ?  When  once  I  had  got  away !  There's  no  punish- 
ment imaginable  compared  with  what  I've  suffered 
with  you!" 

Sir  Lionel  went  red  with  rage,  and  the  great  vein 
swelled  up  on  his  forehead. 

I  was  too  much  excited  to  care  what  I  said,  and 
this  new  defiance,  so  unexpected  in  me,  maddened 
him  as  if  a  tame  rabbit  had  turned  and  bit  him. 
He  did  not  know  what  to  do  to  express  the  fury 
which  possessed  him.  I  saw  his  lips  curl  away  from 

280 


his  teeth  and  his  hands  clench,  and  when  he  spoke 
his  voice  was  hoarse  with  rage. 

"Y-y-you've   suffered,   have  you?     S-s-suffered 

with  me?    Then,  d-d-d n  you,  you  shall  suffer 

no  longer.  Out  of  the  house,  my  lady;  out  of  the 
house  with  you!  Go  after  your  precious  lover, 
cousin,  whatever  he  is;  after  him,  after  him.  Tell 
him  to  take  you  with  him  and  make  you  as  happy 
as — as  you  deserve  to  be!" 

I  thought  he  would  choke  upon  the  last  words. 
Then,  seizing  me  by  the  arm,  he  flung  open  the  door, 
and  dragging  me  along  the  corridor  and  down  the 
staircase,  rushed  across  the  hall  with  me,  and  taking 
me  right  out  into  the  road,  flung  me  from  him  and 
went  back  into  the  building. 

I  had  been  conscious  of  the  figures  of  men  and 
women  about  us  as  I  was  forced  along — of  remon- 
strant voices,  of  a  hubbub  and  confusion. 

And  now,  as  he  went  back,  I  knew  that  he  was 
met  by  shouting  men,  and  that  he  was  occupied  in 
disputing  with  someone  at  the  hotel  door. 

But  I  did  not  want  to  be  taken  back;  I  did  not 
want  to  be  seen  even  by  helpers  and  sympathisers. 
I  was  filled  with  shame  and  misery,  and  I  felt  as  if 
I  were  all  one  smarting  wound. 

281 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

The  night  air  chilled  me  and  made  me  shiver; 
I  was  hatless,  and  the  dress  I  wore  was  open  in  the 
neck  and  my  shoes  were  thin  slippers. 

But  I  did  not  turn  back.  There  was  only  one 
place  to  which  I  could  go,  only  one  friend  who  could 
help  me.  I  knew  where  Mr.  Calstock  lived,  and  it 
was  straight  to  his  hotel  that  I  ran. 

Picking  up  the  train  of  my  dress,  and  disregard- 
ing the  comments  which  were  made  upon  my 
appearance  by  the  few  passers-by,  I  flew  along 
like  the  wind,  and  reached  Mr.  Calstock's  hotel, 
which  was  a  quiet  one,  while  the  lights  were 
still  burning. 

There  was  scarcely  any  one  about,  to  my  great 
relief,  but  I  found  an  astonished  waiter,  and  asked 
him  to  tell  Mr.  Calstock  that  a  lady  wanted  to  see 
him  at  once. 

The  man  looked  hard  at  me,  but  I  suddenly 
thought  of  something  to  say : 

"Mr.  Calstock  is  my  father's  lawyer,"  I  said. 

Then  he  showed  me  into  a  long  dining-room 
where  all  the  lights  were  out  except  one  lamp  on  a 
table  and  left  me  there. 

To  my  great  relief,  in  a  few  minutes  Mr.  Cal- 
stock himself  came  in,  looking  very  grave  indeed. 

"282 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Lady  Cecilia!  I  guessed  it  was  you.  What  is 
this?" 

I  was  not  even  wearing  a  hat,  and  my  torn  dress 
and  loosened  hair  made  me  look  a  dreadful  creature. 

"Take  me  where  we  can  talk,"  I  said,  noticing 
that  there  was  a  door  ajar  at  the  end  of  the  room. 

"Yes.  I  have  a  sitting-room.  Come  upstairs. 
Tell  me  first,  in  half  a  dozen  words,  the  meaning  of 
this." 

"Sir  Lionel  turned  me  out  of  the  hotel,  with  his 
own  hands,  just  as  I  was,  because  I  confessed  I  had 
asked  my  cousin  Jack  Eardington  to  run  away  with 
me." 

Mr.  Calstock  frowned  severely. 

"Well,  come  upstairs,"  said  he. 

I  followed  him  out,  and  saw  that  there  was  more 
than  one  curious  face  peeping  at  me  from  dark  cor- 
ners as  I  did  so.  We  came  to  the  sitting-room  on 
the  second  floor,  where  the  papers  spread  out  on 
the  table  under  a  lamp  showed  that  Mr.  Calstock 
had  been  at  work. 

He  gave  me  a  chair,  and  I  sat  down  and  leaned 
upon  the  table. 

"You  are  cold,"  said  he. 

I  then  noticed  that  T  was  shivering,  but  I  had  not 
283 


THE  DIARY,  OF  MY,  HONEYMOON 

known  it  before.  He  went  to  the  sideboard  and 
brought  a  bottle  and  glass  to  the  table  and  poured 
out  some  wine. 

"Drink  it,"  he  said  quietly. 

I  shook  my  head. 

"I  don't  want  it,  thank  you." 

"Drink  it." 

I  obeyed  without  any  more  protests.  They  were 
of  no  use  with  him. 

Then  he  sat  down  on  the  other  side  of  the 
table,  and  we  looked  at  each  other  by  the  light 
of  the  lamp. 

"And  now  tell  me  how  you  came  to  make  to  Sir 
Lionel  such  a  very  unwise  confession." 

I  told  him  everything,  not  keeping  back  the  small- 
est thing,  and  not  trying  to  lessen  my  own  weakness. 

"Of  course,"  I  said,  when  I  had  told  him  all,  "you 
look  upon  me  as  a  very  wicked  woman,  to  have  asked 
a  man  to  run  away  with  me?" 

Such  a  gentle  look  came  into  his  eyes,  that  it  was 
like  a  rush  of  warm,  sweet  air  round  me  only  to  see 
it.  But  all  he  said  was,  in  that  dry  tone  of  his : 

"As  a  lawyer  I  have  known  worse." 

"Mr.  Calstock,  I  shouldn't  have  been  wicked  if 
I  had  been  treated  fairly.  I  suppose  that  is  what 

284 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

criminals  say;  but  I  suppose  that,  even  with  them, 
it  is  true  sometimes." 

"At  any  rate,  it  is  true  you  have  not  been  treated 
fairly  by  anybody." 

"You  do  think  that?"  said  I. 

"Certainly  I  do.  There  is  only  one  thing  to  be 
thankful  for,  and  that  is  that  your  cousin  was  too 
selfish  to  take  you  away  with  him." 

"Too  selfish !  That  is  what  you  think  ?  He  says 
it  is  because  he  is  too  unselfish." 

"Rubbish.  He  didn't  mind  what  risks  you  ran 
by  receiving  him  without  your  husband's  knowledge. 
But  for  his  making  love  to  you  no  idea  of  such  a 
thing  as  running  away  with  him  would  have  entered 
your  head.  He  is  a  selfish  young  cub,  and  I  shall 
give  him  a  hint  to-morrow  to  leave  the  Riviera." 

"To-morrow !  What  does  that  matter  now  ?  We 
shall  forget  it.  We  shall  be  as  we  were  before." 

"Well,  you  don't  want  to  see  him  again  yet  awhile. 
We  have  to  patch  up  things  between  you  and  your 
husband." 

"Oh,  no.,  no." 

"Yes,  we  must.  That  is  tHe  worst  of  such  mar- 
riages as  yours,  that  to  break  away  makes  matters 
worse.  I  have  no  doubt  Sir  Lionel  told  you  the 

'285 


THE  DIARYt  OF.  MY.  HONEYMOON 

truth  when  he  said  he  would  not  divorce  you — if  he 
could.  Not,  by  the  way,  that  he  would  have  any 
chance  of  success  if  he  were  to  try.  Then  think  of 
the  life  that  would  be  before  you:  you  can't  see  it 
as  I  can,  because  you  know  so  little  of  the  world. 
But  I  can  tell  you  that  the  life  of  a  wife  separated 
from  such  a  man  is  one  from  which  a  woman  like 
you  would  shrink.  Somehow  the  taint  of  her  hus- 
band's infidelities  seems  to  reach  her,  no  matter  how 
carefully  she  may  order  her  own  life.  And  in  the 
case  of  so  beautiful  a  woman  as  you  are  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  think  that  you  could  stand  alone  and 
remain  the  pure,  sweet  woman  you  are.  Therefore 
you  had  better  let  me  try  to  effect  a  reconciliation 
of  a  sort." 

"No,  no,  no.  I'd  rather  anything  than  that.  Mr. 
Calstock,  you  must  be  shocked  if  you  like,  but  I  hate 
him — I  loathe  him.  To  have  him  hate  me  is  a  thou- 
sand times  better  than — than Oh,  it's  shud- 

dery!" 

I  covered  my  face  with  my  hands,  and  he  said 
nothing  for  a  long  time,  though  I  heard  him  utter 
several  impatient  exclamations. 

"Look  here,"  he  said  at  last;  and  looking  up  I 
saw  his  kind  eyes  looking  earnestly  across  at  me  in 

286 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

the  lamplight ;  "we  must  make  one  effort  at  patching 
up  some  sort  of  reconciliation.  It's  a  bad  business, 
but  you  may  take  my  advice  that  it's  the  best  thing 
to  be  done." 

I  moaned. 

He  went  on  just  as  if  he  were  talking  to  a  child. 

"You  have  done  me  the  honour  to  say  you  trust 
me,  haven't  you?" 

"So  I  do,  so  I  do,  absolutely." 

"Well,  then,  you  must  help  me  to  make  the  best 
of  a  bad  business,  by  doing  exactly  what  I  tell  you. 
You  have  begun  by  being  very  frank,  too  frank  with 
him.  Now  we  must  go  on.  He  is  sure  to  think  you 
have  come  straight  to  me,  and  we  shall  admit  that. 
Then  he  must  understand  that  the  matter  is  left  in 
my  hands." 

"Yes,  yes." 

"Perhaps  already  he  will  be  regretting  his  passion, 
and  the  disgraceful  scandal  he  has  started  by  turn- 
ing you  out  of  doors.  He  is  used  to  having  his  own 
way  in  everything,  but  he  is  not  a  fool,  and  he  will 
be  realising  by  this  time  that  he  has  done  a  most 
foolish  thing,  one  likely  to  disgust  everybody  and 
to  bring  disgrace  upon  himself  rather  than  upon 
you." 

287 


"Yes,  you  are  quite  right." 

"Then  he  will  be  in  a  chastened  mood,  and  we 
shall  be  able,  I  think,  to  make  our  own  terms  for 
your  going  back." 

"Going  back!    Oh,  no!" 

"Remember,  you  have  left  everything  to  me.  I 
shall  see  that  the  terms  we  make  are  endurable  to 
you.  At  least,  not  unendurable." 

"Well,  perhaps  he  won't  have  me  back  at  any 
price,"  I  suggested  hopefully. 

Even  then  he  smiled  at  this  outburst. 

"In  that  case,"  he  said,  "I  shall  insist  that  your 
things,  your  personal  belongings,  be  put  into  my 
care  at  once." 

"Oh,  he'll  call  me  greedy  again !" 

"Well,  he  can  tell  me  anything  he  likes.  I'm  not 
going  to  have  all  your  things  given  to  persons  who 
have  no  right  to  them.  The  way  Sir  Lionel  has  been 
advertising  his  intrigue  with  this  Mrs.  Frewen  is  a 
scandal,  and  she's  a  clever  adventuress  who  will  cer- 
tainly be  shrewd  enough  to  widen  the  breach,  and 
to  avail  herself  of  any  trifles  in  the  way  of  jewellery 
or  valuable  personal  property  which  Sir  Lionel  might 
have  given  you." 

I  shuddered  impatiently. 
288 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Oh,  I'd  rather  have  nothing  than  quarrel  over 
even  my  own  things.  As  for  the  jewellery,  I  don't 
want  it,  I  hate  it,"  I  said. 

"Well,  well,  I  should  be  sorry  if  you  did  look  at 
the  matter  with  my  sordid  eyes,"  laughed  Mr.  Cal- 
stock.  "Now  what  can  I  do  with  you?  I  must  take 
you  to  a  couple  of  old  ladies  I  know  who  have  a  little 
flat  here,  and  ask  them  to  put  you  up  for  the  night." 

"Strangers!     Oh,  dear!" 

"Shall  I  take  you  over  to  your  relations  at  Cannes, 
then?" 

"Oh.  yes." 

But  he  frowned  and  shook  his  head. 

"No,  I  can't  do  that,"  he  said. 

And  I  knew  it  was  because  of  Jack,  and  I  blushed. 
So  he  said  kindly: 

"We  must  be  careful  not  to  give  Sir  Lionel  a 
handle  against  you." 

Of  course  that  was  only  common  sense,  and  I 
assented.  He  had  got  up  from  his  chair,  and  was 
wondering  how  he  could  get  a  covering  for  my  head 
and  shoulders,  when  a  waiter  came  to  say  that  Sir 
Lionel  Eberhard  wished  to  see  him. 

"Tell  him  I  will  come  down  and  see  him  at  once," 
said  Mr.  Calstock. 

289 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Then,  when  the  waiter  had  gone,  he  turned  to 
me  with  a  smile. 

"Cheer  up,"  he  said.  "I'll  see  what  I  can  do.  It 
may  end  better  and  more  quickly  than  you  think/' 

So  he  went  downstairs,  and  I  remained  waiting, 
my  heart  beating  very  fast,  dreading  that  I  should 
have  to  go  back  to  the  hotel  with  Sir  Lionel,  al- 
though I  knew  this  would  be,  in  Mr.  Calstock's  eyes, 
the  most  satisfactory  ending. 

It  seemed  ages  before  he  came  back.  He  was 
alone,  and  was  looking  very  grave. 

"It  is  worse  than  I  thought,  I  am  sorry  to  say," 
he  said,  when  he  had  shut  the  door.  "This  woman's 
influence  is  strongly  upon  Sir  Lionel,  and  he  came, 
guessing  you  would  have  come  to  me,  to  say  that 
he  will  never  have  you  back  under  his  roof,  and  that 
he  will  make  you  no  allowance  unless  he  is  sued  for 
it,  in  order  that  he  may  force  you  into  court  and  get 
you  to  make  admissions  which  will  be  humiliating 
for  you." 

But  I  was  delighted  to  hear  this.  Anything  was 
better  than  to  have  to  go  back  to  him. 

"Well,  I'm  no  worse  off  than  I  was  before,"  I 
said  jubilantly. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  are/'  said  Mr.  Calstock  quickly. 
290 


THE  DIARY  'OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"He  has  really  made  a  will  leaving  all  his  money — 
or  practically  all — to  this  Mrs.  Frewen.  He  showed 
it  to  me  himself,  signed  and  witnessed  in  proper 
form,  and  all  the  satisfaction  I  had  was  in  warning 
him  that  he  had  better  look  out  for  himself  now  he 
has  done  it." 

But  I  was  not  at  all  cast  down.  For  this  news 
had  been  discounted  for  me  by  Sir  Lionel  himself. 

"I  don't  care  a  bit "  I  said. 

But  then  suddenly  something  came  into  my  mind 
which  made  me  put  my  hands  up  to  my  face  and 
say  "Oh!"  in  alarm. 

"What  is  it?" 

"My  diary — and  my  dressing-case,  with  all  the 
little  presents  from  Mama  and  Papa  and  from  Miss 
Trood  and  Kelly !  You  can  make  him  give  up  that, 
and  without  opening  it  and  turning  it  out,  can't 
you?"  I  begged. 

"Yes,"  said  he.    "We'll  have  that  at  all  events." 

I  rather  thought  from  the  way  in  which  he  said 
this  that  he  meant  to  have  something  more,  but  I 
said  nothing,  and  he  explained. 

"Sir  Lionel  told  me  he  was  going  straight  to 
Monte  Carlo  to  see  Mrs.  Frewen  again  to-night," 
he  said.  "So  we'll  take  the  opportunity,  you  and  T, 

291 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY.  HONEYMOON 

of  going  back  to  your  hotel  and  taking  what  belongs 
to  you." 

"Oh,  I  can't  go  back  there,  after  that  scene  !*' 

"Come,  you  must  trust  me,  you  know.  I've 
spoken  to  a  chambermaid  who  is  going  to  bring  you 
a  cloak  and  hat,  and  a  veil,  and  we  will  slip  in  and 
out  again  without  much  trouble,  I  hope." 

He  had  a  voiture  at  the  door,  late  as  it  was,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  I  was  muffled  up  in  clothes  that  did 
not  belong  to  me  and  ready  to  start.  We  said 
scarcely  a  word  as  we  went,  and  we  arrived  in  a 
few  minutes.  All  happened  as  Mr.  Calstock  had 
expected.  There  was  hardly  any  one  about,  and  I 
don't  think  I  was  recognised,  and  we  went  straight 
upstairs  after  having  found  out  that  Sir  Lionel  was 
away. 

Sir  Lionel's  suite  of  rooms  and  mine  were  both 
on  the  first  floor,  and  mine  came  first.  We  went 
into  my  sitting-room,  where  we  found  Dawes  cry- 
ing quietly.  Mr.  Calstock  questioned  her,  and  found 
that  Sir  Lionel  had  spoken  insultingly  of  me  to  her, 
and  had  told  her  that  I  should  never  come  back. 

Then  Mr.  Calstock  told  her  to  bring  all  my  per- 
sonal property,  my  trunks  and  my  dresses  and  jew- 
ellery, and  that  we  would  take  them  away.  She  was 

292 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

delighted,  and  she  hurried  away  to  pack  them,  when 
Mr.  Calstock  asked  me  what  had  become  of  my 
pearls.  I  told  him  that  they  had  come  off  when  Sir 
Lionel  tore  my  dress  that  evening  in  the  sitting- 
room. 

"Go  and  find  them,"  he  said. 

I  objected,  but  he  insisted  that  they  were  mine, 
and  that  I  had  better  take  them,  and  I  went  to  the 
sitting-room  of  Sir  Lionel's  suite  reluctantly  enough. 

But  when  I  got  into  the  room,  where  I  found  the 
furniture  in  the  same  disorder  in  which  I  had  left 
it,  I  saw  the  door  of  the  bedroom  move,  and  guessed 
that  someone  was  in  there  watching  me.  I  got 
frightened,  wondering  whether  it  was  Sir  Lionel 
himself,  and  instead  of  looking  about  for  the  pearls 
which  he  had  torn  off  my  neck  when  he  seized  my 
dress,  I  got  out  of  the  room  as  quickly  as  I  could, 
and  as  I  reached  the  corridor  I  heard  Sir  Lionel's 
voice.  He  was  coming  up  the  staircase. 

I  ran  to  my  own  sitting-room,  much  alarmed, 
wondering  what  would  happen  when  he  found  me 
and  Mr.  Calstock  and  Dawes  engaged  in  packing 
up  my  things. 

But  as  I  passed  the  door  of  Sir  Lionel's  bedroom 
I  saw  that  it  was  ajar,  and  waiting  behind  it  was  a 

293 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY,  HONEYMOON 

woman,  whom  I  recognised  by  the  glimpse  of  her 
dress  as  Mrs.  Frewen.  Her  hand  was  at  her  breast, 
and  in  her  hand  was  something  bright  and  shining. 

I  could  see  no  more,  for  I  ran  faster  when  I  saw 
who  it  was,  and  a  moment  later  I  was  in  my  own 
sitting-room  again,  trembling  and  unable  to  speak. 

Mr.  Calstock  and  Dawes  were  at  at  table  packing 
one  of  my  trunks,  and  they  did  not  at  once  look 
round.  I  waited  a  moment  to  recover  myself,  and 
was  just  going  to  cross  the  room  to  tell  Mr.  Cal- 
stock what  I  had  seen,  when — ping-ping — a  sharp 
report  came  to  our  ears. 

At  once  I  knew  what  it  was,  and  I  screamed. 

"What's  that?"  said  Mr.  Calstock,  as  he  ran  out. 

Dawes  and  I  followed  him. 

Lying  in  the  corridor,  just  outside  his  bedroom 
door,  was  Sir  Lionel,  with  a  revolver  beside  him. 

"It's  nothing,"  he  said,  gasping.  "It's — an  acci- 
dent." 

But  I  knew  better. 

I  whispered  in  Mr.  Calstock' s  ear: 

"It's  the  woman.  I  saw  her  in  his  room  as  I  passed, 
and  there  was  something  shining  in  her  hand." 

Mr.  Calstock  dashed  into  the  bedroom,  but  there 
was  no  one  there.  Jones  had  run  up,  and  was  kneel- 

294 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

ing  beside  his  master.  Dawes  was  calling  out  for 
help. 

I  stood  still,  unable  to  think.  But  all  the  time  I 
knew,  I  guessed  what  it  was  that  had  happened. 

Dawes  took  me  back  into  my  room  before  Sir 
Lionel  even  noticed  that  I  was  there,  I  think.  He 
was  telling  them  he  was  all  right,  and  that  he 
wanted  a  doctor  at  once.  His  voice  seemed  to  grow 
fainter  and  fainter  as  they  took  me  away. 

It  seemed  that  I  sat  in  the  sitting-room  for  hours 
and  hours.  Dawes  waited  upon  me  quietly,  saying 
very  little.  I  looked  at  the  trunk  which  she  and  Mr. 
Calstock  had  been  packing  for  me,  and  I  wondered 
what  was  going  to  happen. 

Presently  Mr.  Calstock  came  in  again,  and  I 
sprang  up  and  asked  him  to  tell  me  everything. 

"It  is  most  unfortunate,"  said  he.  And  I  knew 
that  everything  had  changed,  for  his  voice  and  man- 
ner were  quite  different,  and  though  he  was  still 
professionally  grave,  he  did  not  seem  to  be  so  much 
distressed  as  he  had  been  when  he  brought  me  back 
to  the  hotel.  "Sir  Lionel  met  a  man  who  was  going 
to  blow  his  brains  out  with  a  revolver,  after  having 
lost  all  his  money  at  the  tables  at  Monte  Carlo.  Sir 
Lionel  brought  the  revolver  away  for  safety,  and 

295 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

just  as  he  was  taking  it  out  of  his  pocket  on  reach- 
itog  his  rooms  here  it  went  off  and  shot  him." 

I  shook  my  head  and  was  beginning  to  tell  him 
again  about  the  woman  I  had  seen,  when,  by  a 
peculiar  look,  he  warned  me  to  hold  my  tongue. 

"Sir  Lionel  wants  to  see  you,  Lady  Cecilia,"  he 
said. 

"To  see  me !"  I  faltered,  incredulous. 

"Yes." 

He  offered  me  his  arm,  and  I  took  it,  trembling 
very  much.  I  heard  Dawes  sob  behind  me  as  I  went 
out  of  the  room.  In  the  corridor  he  paused  a  mo- 
ment, and  said: 

"You  will  be  forgiving,  I  know." 

I  burst  into  tears,  for  I  knew  then  that  a  crisis  was 
coming. 

"Dry  your  eyes,"  he  said. 

I  obeyed  him  like  a  child,  and  he  led  me  into  the 
room,  where  Sir  Lionel,  partly  undressed,  was  lying 
on  the  bed.  He  was  looking  so  unlike  himself  that 
for  a  moment  I  stared  at  him,  not  recognising  that 
it  was  he.  But  he  tried  to  call  me,  and  to  smile,  and 
then  I  went  up  to  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  Mr.  Cal- 
stock  and  the  doctor  who  was  there  made  me  sit 
down. 

296 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Sir  Lionel  turned  his  eyes  towards  me,  and  I  un- 
derstood that  he  wanted  to  be  kind,  and  I  put  out 
my  hand.  He  took  it,  but  his  touch  was  quite  feeble 
and  helpless,  and  it  was  I  who  held  his  hand,  and 
not  he  who  held  mine.  And,  in  spite  of  all  I  could 
do,  I  began  to  feel  the  tears  raining  down  my  face, 
for  I  knew  that  all  was  coming  to  an  end,  and  I  felt 
like  a  murderess. 

And  yet  indeed  I  had  never  wished  him  any  harm, 
only  that  we  might  be  happy  apart,  since  we  could 
not  be  happy  together. 

But  at  the  moment  I  felt  exactly  as  if  it  had  been 
all  my  fault,  and  as  if  the  blame  for  his  lying  there 
like  that  was  all  mine. 

I  knew  it  was  not  really  so,  but  I  felt  like  that  all 
the  same. 

"Don't  cry,  Cecilia,"  he  said,  in  a  whisper  which 
I  could  scarcely  hear.  "I  wanted  to  ask  you  to  for- 
give me.  I  don't  want  you  to  stay  here,  but  only  to 
tell  me  you  have  forgiven  everything,  everything." 

"I  have,  oh,  I  have  indeed,"  I  whispered  back. 

"Let  me  kiss  your  hand  then,  only  that." 

He  seemed  too  weak  even  to  raise  my  hand,  but 
I  clasped  his  fingers  tightly  in  mine  and  bent  down 
an'd  kissed  him  on  the  forehead. 

297 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

It  was  white  and  clammy  and  cold,  and  it  froze 
me  to  know  how  near  the  end  must  be. 

"God  bless  you,"  he  said.  Then  he  turned  his 
eyes  towards  the  two  gentlemen  and  tried  to  say, 
"Take  her  away." 

And  Mr.  Calstock  led  me  out  of  the  room  and 
back  to  my  sitting-room,  where  I  cried  my  heart 
out,  and  felt  just  as  sorry,  I  am  sure,  as  if  I  had 
loved  him  very  much. 

Again  it  seemed  a  long  time,  but  it  was  not,  be- 
fore Mr.  Calstock  came  in,  and  I  stood  up  at  once. 
But  he  shook  his  head. 

"I  don't  want  you,"  he  said.  And  he  turned  to 
Dawes:  "I  want  you.  You  don't  mind,  Lady 
Cecilia,  if  you  are  left  alone  for  a  few  minutes?" 

"Oh,  no,"  said  I ;  "but  I  wish  I  could  be  of  some 
use." 

"Thank  you.    Not  just  yet." 

So  he  and  Dawes  went  away,  and  the  clock  seemed 
to  tick  out  hours  instead  of  seconds  till  Dawes  came 
back.  She  was  crying,  and  she  would  not  tell  me 
why  they  had  wanted  her.  And  again  I  had  to  sit 
and  cry  for  what  seemed  a  long  time. 

When  I  heard  Mr.  Calstock's  footsteps  again  I 
ran  out  into  the  corridor  to  meet  him. 

298 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY.  HONEYMOON 

"Do  you  want  me  now  ?"  I  said.  "Is  he  calling 
for  me?'' 

He  shook  his  head. 

"He  is  past  calling  for  you  now,"  he  said.  "It's 
all  over." 

That  is  the  last  I  remember  till  I  found  myself  in 
bed,  with  Dawes  on  one  side  of  me  and  the  doctor 
on  the  other. 

I  lay  ill  for  several  days,  until  after  the  funeral 
was  over.  Indeed,  I  had  caught  a  chill,  and  I  had 
a  little  fever,  and  the  doctor  was  afraid  of  pneu- 
monia. 

Dawes  nursed  me  devotedly,  and  Maggie,  who 
came  over  to  stay  near  me,  was  very  kind,  much 
kinder  than  she  had  ever  been  before. 

She  told  me  that  Jack  was  inconsolable  about  my 
illness,  which  he  imagined  to  be  worse  than  it  was. 
And  I  found  out  from  this  that  Mr.  Calstock  had 
not  carried  out  his  threat  to  send  him  away. 

The  doctor  would  not  allow  Maggie  to  see  me 
very  often,  as  he  said  she  talked  too  much,  and  I 
was  glad  of  that,  because  of  all  things  I  wanted  to 
avoid  talking  until  after  I  had  had  a  conversation 
with  my  dear  Mr.  Calstock. 

I  asked  after  him,  and  Heard  that  fie  was  still  at 
299 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

Nice,  and  then  I  learnt  that  Papa  and  Mama  had 
both  been  sent  for.  I  was  not  so  glad  as  I  ought 
to  have  been.  After  all,  none  of  this  would  have 
happened  if  only  they  had  not  been  so  ready  to  take 
for  granted  that  a  rich  man  could  do  no  wrong,  and 
that  a  man  whose  manners  are  good  enough  for 
society  must  be  a  husband  suitable  to  a  fastidious 
young  girl. 

I  was  longing  to  see  Mr.  Calstock,  and  to  find  out 
how  they  had  managed  to  hush  everything  up,  so 
that  the  story  about  the  accidental  discharge  of  the 
revolver  was  the  one  that  got  into  the  papers. 

What  had  become  of  the  woman?  It  would  be 
dreadful  if  it  should  come  out  that  it  was,  as  I  sus- 
pected, she  who  shot  him,  and  if  I  should  have  to 
come  forward  and  give  evidence  that  I  saw  her  at 
the  bedroom  door. 

Yet  that  I  did  see  her  I  was  sure,  and  I  was  now 
just  as  certain  that  the  shining  thing  I  had  seen  in 
her  hand  was  a  revolver. 

What  did  she  do  it  for?  Was  she  still  jealous 
of  me,  even  after  the  proofs  of  affection  she  had  ob- 
tained from  him?  It  seemed  absurd  to  think  so, 
but  I  had  to  bear  my  curiosity  until  the  day  came 
when  I  was  allowed  to  go  into  my  sitting-room  for 

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THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

the  first  time,  and  then  I  sent  at  once  for  Mr.  Cal- 
stock. 

I  thought  he  looked  graver  and  more  formal  than 
ever,  but  I  did  not  mind  that  in  him  now  that  I  knew 
his  goodness  so  well,  and  I  held  out  my  hand  just 
as  lovingly  as  I  felt. 

"Well,  Mr.  Calstock,  come  and  tell  me  all.  I  have 
been  half  mad  with  anxiety  to  hear  everything,  lying 
like  that,  without  being  able  to  ask  a  question." 

I  made  him  sit  close  beside  me,  and  then  I  whis- 
pered : 

"Tell  me,  did  you  see  the  woman  that  night? 
How  did  she  get  away?" 

"She  hid  in  the  sitting-room  till  everybody  had 
cleared  off,  and  Sir  Lionel  was  carried  into  his  bed- 
room, and  then  she  got  away." 

"Wasn't  she  seen  by  anybody?" 

"Must  have  been.  But  nothing  has  been  said 
aloud,  at  any  rate." 

"Mr.  Calstock,"  I  said  solemnly,  "I  am  as  sure 
as  ever  that  it  was  not  an  accident,  but  that  it  was 
she  who  shot  him." 

"Of  course  it  was,"  he  answered  simply. 

"How  could  she,  when  he  did  so  much  for  her  ?" 

"That  was  the  mischief.  He  had  made  a  will 
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THE  DIARY  OF  MY.  HONEYMOON 

leaving  the  bulk  of  his  money  to  her.    That  will  was 
his  death-warrant." 

I  could  scarcely  repress  a  scream. 

"You  mean — that  she  killed  him,  murdered  him — 
to  get  the  money?" 

"That's  it  exactly." 

I  was  aghast.    After  a  little  thought  I  said : 

"Well,  it  will  be  nothing  but  a  curse  to  her,  it 
can  be  nothing  else." 

Mr.  Calstock  smiled,  and  said,  in  a  rather  con- 
strained voice: 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that." 

"I'm  sure  of  it.  However  wicked  she  may  be  she 
will  suffer  something,  she  must." 

"In  such  a  flagrant  case,  wouldn't  you  dispute  the 
will?" 

"Not  for  the  world.  If  I  did,  I  should  have  to 
tell  what  I  saw,  to  rake  up  the  scandal,  to  face  the 
wretched  creature  in  court" 

"Well,  but  aren't  you  too  squeamish?" 

"I  don't  know.    At  any  rate,  I  won't  do  it." 

"Well,  it  won't  be  necessary,  I  think." 

"Tell  me  one  thing  more.  She  won't  be  able  to 
prevent  my  having  my  own  things,  those  I  was 
going  to  take  away  with  me  that  night?" 

302" 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"Oh.  dear,  no." 

"That's  all  right." 

I  lay  back  on  my  pillow  and  closed  my  eyes,  feel- 
ing rather  tired. 

"Your  cousin,  Mr.  Eardington,  has  called  to  know 
when  he  can  see  you,  Lady  Cecilia,"  he  said  after 
a  pause,  speaking  rather  formally. 

I  shook  my  head. 

"I  don't  want  to  see  him  just  yet,"  I  said.  "Mr. 
Calstock,  you  don't  know  how  I  feel  about  him.  I 
may  tell  you  everything,  because  you  are  a  sort  of 
father  confessor  to  me,  aren't  you?" 

"Indeed,  I  should  like  to  think  so.  It's  what  a 
good  lawyer  ought  to  be  to  his  clients." 

I  made  a  little  grimace. 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  of  you  as  a  musty-fusty  old 
lawyer,  with  me  as  a  client,"  I  said,  smiling.  "I 
like  to  think  of  you  as  I  have  found  you,  as  a  dear, 
good,  trusted  friend." 

"Thank  you." 

"Only  I  wish  you  wouldn't  be  always  quite  so 
dry.** 

He  laughed,  but  still  in  the  same  reserved  fashion. 

"Are  you  married,  Mr.  Calstock?" 

I  had  succeeded  in  surprising  him. 

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THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"No,  Lady  Cecilia,  I  have  not  that — pleasure." 

"I  wonder  how  you  would  make  love?"  I  said. 

And  then  he  grew  very  red,  and  so  did  I,  and  I 
think  we  both  felt — at  least  I  know  I  did — that  for 
a  widow  of  only  a  few  days  I  was  showing  more 
levity  than  was  right. 

But  he  answered  my  question. 

"I  suppose,  when  the  time  came,  I  should  do  it — 
much  as  other  men  do,"  he  said  quietly. 

"Well,  I  should  like  to  be  there  to  see,"  I  said. 

And  I  looked  at  him  and  saw  on  his  face 
a  look  which  showed  me  he  was  not  so  dry  as 
his  manner  had  to  be.  So  I  changed  the  subject 
rather  quickly. 

"I  was  going  to  tell  you,"  I  said,  "how  I  feel 
about  my  cousin  Jack." 

I  thought  Mr.  Calstock  looked  rather  more  severe 
than  usual,  but  he  said  nothing,  and  I  went  on : 

"All  this  that  I've  been  through  has  changed  me 
so  much  that  I  seem  to  have  left  behind  me  half  the 
old  feelings.  And  one  of  those  that  are  gone  for 
ever  is — the  feeling  I  had  for  him." 

"I'm  sincerely  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Calstock 
quickly.  "For  of  all  the " 

He  stopped  short,  and  I  did  not  ask  him  to  finish. 
304 


For  indeed  I  felt  very  sore  about  my  cousin.  How- 
ever strong  his  feelings  might  be,  they  were  not  those 
I  had  thought  he  held  for  me;  his  affection  was  not 
of  the  best  sort,  the  sort  that  would  have  suffered  for 
me  and  have  saved  me. 

So  we  were  silent  for  a  little  while,  and  then  I 
said : 

"Why  are  Papa  and  Mama  coming  out  to  me? 
It  would  have  been  less  expensive  for  me  to  go 
straight  home  to  them.  And  you  would  have  seen 
me  safe  back  in  England,  wouldn't  you?" 

"There  will  be  quite  a  rush  for  that  honour,"  he 
said  evasively,  "I  assure  you." 

"Will  there?"  I  said.     "Why?" 

"You  don't  understand  your  own  position  yet, 
Lady  Cecilia." 

"What  have  I  to  learn?"  I  asked,  after  a  little 
pause,  rather  frightened  by  his  solemnity. 

"Sir  Lionel,  however  he  may  have  lived,  died  like 
a  man,  and  did  the  right  thing — in  all  respects.  He 
showed  no  wish  for  revenge  upon  one  person  who 
was  ungrateful,  and  he  did  his  best  to  atone  to  the 
one  who — was  not  ungrateful." 

I  felt  quite  cold  with  a  sense  of  impending  shock. 

"Go  on,"  I  said  at  last. 

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THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"So  he  gave  out  that  his  wound  was  the  result 
of  his  own  accidental  act,  as  you  know." 

"Yes." 

"That  exonerated — someone." 

"Yes." 

"And  he  destroyed  his  will,  by  which  that  person 
profited,  and  made  one — which  was  the  best  he  could 
do  to  atone  to — you." 

I  was  silent.    After  a  long  time,  I  said : 

"Then  I  can  help — poor  Papa — and  Mama." 

"Yes.  But  I  beg  you  to  remember  that  your  help 
must  be  judicious.  I  wish  you  had  a  sound  adviser." 

"So  I  have." 

And  I  put  my  hand  into  his. 

"I  will  not  give  one  penny  away  except  un- 
der your  advice,  Mr.  Calstock.  I  know  I  can 
trust  you." 

"Well,  so  you  can.  But  I  shall  have  to  swim  in 
a  good  deal  of  hot  water  on  your  account,  I  fear." 

I  laughed. 

"I  expect  you  will.  The  knowledge  that  you  have 
been  a  good  friend  to  a  most  desolate  woman  must 
be  your  reward,"  I  said  gently. 

"Shall  I  be  very  rich?"  I  asked  nervously,  after 
a  little  silence. 

306 


THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

"You  will  have  sixteen  or  seventeen  thousand  a 
year,  I  think." 

"Oh,  that  is  very  rich!  I  wish  it  were  not  so 
much!"  I  said. 

"It  is  the  sort  of  trouble  that  people  soon  become 
accustomed  to,"  he  said  in  his  old  dry  tones. 

"Well,  I  thank  God  for  sending  me  a  friend 
who  will  help  me  to  do  all  the  good  I  can 
with  it,"  I  said. 

This  happened  only  yesterday,  and  I  expect  Papa 
and  Mama  to-morrow.  I  have  given  Jack  his  dis- 
missal. It  sounds  harsh  to  say  that,  and  of  course 
I  did  not  put  it  like  that.  But  the  poor  fellow  knew 
what  I  meant.  I  was  too  angry  with  him  for  his 
overflowing  civility  to  me,  as  a  rich  widow,  to  be 
quite  kind,  or  even  quite  fair. 

I  have  learnt  so  many  lessons  lately,  all  since  I 
began  this  strange  and  terrible  year.  And  this  is 
the  last  entry  I  shall  make  in  my  diary.  It  is  asso- 
ciated in  my  mind  with  too  much  that  was  painful 
for  me  to  go  on  with  it  now  that  the  strain  is  over 

for  ever. 

****** 

In  April  of  the  year  following  that  during  which 
the  above  diary  was  written,  the  following  adver- 

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THE  DIARY  OF  MY  HONEYMOON 

tisement  appeared  in  the  first  column  of  the  Times 
and  the  Morning  Post: 

"On  the  20th  instant,   at  St.  ,  

,  W.,  Gerald  Ernest  Calstock  to  Lady  Cecilia 


Stephana  Anne,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Rushbury 
and  widow  of  Sir  Lionel  Eberhard." 


THE   END 


308 


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